


A Difficult Endeavour

by Midnightamant



Series: The Post War Timeline [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 60,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightamant/pseuds/Midnightamant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-War - When a healer proposes an unorthodox idea of therapy to the Golden Trio and Draco Malfoy, they really have no choice but to accept. The War is over, but it has left scars on them all, some known and unknown. Will they all be able to open up about their most private thoughts and feelings brought on by war and their upbringings? Not only to themselves, but to one another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I am sorry to say that I must head to France for business and will not be able to join Draco today. I appreciate you responding to me last week with the details of this experiment that St Mungo’s has asked you to spearhead, and I must say this is ambitious. I do not know what the outcomes will be, or whether they will be positive. I know you wanted my outright participation in all sessions, and while at first I was more than happy to give you just that, my job has become much more busy and unpredictable as of late. So I must entreat you to follow this endeavor as well as future sessions without me._

_But I have one request. You and I both know that this will be difficult on Draco. Please make sure he has the support he needs, when he needs it, even if he doesn’t look like he wants it._

_Warmest Regards,_

_Astoria Malfoy_

Laurel Donnelly was jolted from thinking about the letter that she could now recite word for word to the task at hand when one of her clients broke the silence.

"Are we waiting on anybody else?" Harry Potter inquired as he looked around the room with the many chairs. The woman he asked gave a kind smile.

"Just three more, but they're likely to come at the same time."

"I still don't like this, not one bit." Ron Weasley grumbled from where he sat beside his wife, Hermione, who patted his hand in reassurance.

"Honestly, Ronald, I know this is a bit unorthodox but this might actually do some good."

"Let's hope so. I would very much like to sleep." Ginny murmured, trying not to wake the three month old bundle in her arms. When the door swung open, everyone gaped in surprise at who stood in the doorway.

"Apologies Miss Donnelly, Astoria had to travel unexpectedly to France for the day and I couldn't arrange a minder for Scorpius. Hey mate, why don't-" Draco Malfoy, who was currently struggling to get his two year old son's jumper off whilst the child was jumping with excitement, paused as he recognised the other occupants of the room.

"Mr. Malfoy, please do come in."

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded as he absently managed to get the jumper off his hyperactive child and usher him into the room. The door closed softly behind them.

"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll explain." Scorpius, used to this routine, waddled over to where the toys were packed nearly into a box. He started searching for what he wanted whilst his father sat down, and it was only then that the small boy realised they weren't the only ones in the room. He glanced shyly at the strangers. He snatched up a toy dragon, hugged it to his chest, and moved unsteadily toward his father. Draco hoisted him into the chair next to him.

"Please do explain why our confidentiality agreement is becoming null and void, this instant."

"All will be explained, Mr. Malfoy. First, let me introduce myself to you, Mrs. Potter. We've not had the pleasure of meeting. My name is Laurel Donnelly." The kind smile was back in full force as her eyes rested on the new mother. After a wary glance at Draco, Ginny focused on the woman.

"I'd shake, but, you know, baby. Nice to meet you too. Harry's been rather open about his meetings with you, so I'm happy with what you two have been doing."

"Appreciated. So, I'll start off with my qualifications, yes? This will help explain why you're all here and, as Mr. Malfoy accurately pointed out, voiding confidentiality agreements. First off, I received my magical education at Ilvermorny, the North American school of magic. From there I did an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, primarily in the psychological injuries and maladies unit, which specialised in anything from paranoid schizophrenia to spell forced insanity. Did three years, finished the apprenticeship, and then went to a muggle university to receive a psychology degree. That took six years. Then I came back to the wizarding world and freelanced as a therapist. Recently, Mungo's approached me, which leads me to why you're all here."

"Well…?" Draco grumbled under his breath. Scorpius, perhaps sensing his father's discomfort, stood in his chair and reached over to pat his father's shoulder.

"Dahdee, no sad." Draco swung his son into his lap.

"Sorry, mate. Continue, Miss Donnelly." Draco spoke calmly this time, but didn't miss the slightly astonished glances the Golden Trio and the Weaslette threw his way.

“They approached me with an idea for a study. The effects of group therapy on survivors of war. Now I have done a version of this: while the war was going on, I was in the northern regions of Canada, where there are large groups of First Nations people who had been affected by the war.”

“How were they affected?” Hermione asked, her curiosity – as always – getting the better of her.

“Well the Canadian government has had the tendency to ignore these groups – there is a lot of animosity because of what colonisers did to the First Nations groups in the past. So this tendency to ignore these groups, as well as the spirituality of these groups, made them easy targets for Death Eaters in the area who wanted to use their magic for unknown reasons, or just thought they were less than fully magical. So I did group therapy with these groups, as the majority of the groups do most things together anyway. It was quite successful, actually. They were really able to help each other. Now, I’m not saying that we suddenly have to sit around a campfire and sing Kumbaya, I’m not even saying you have to become friends. But I think that doing this would very much help with gaining some understanding and perspective.”

“I think it’s a good idea.” Harry murmured, reaching blindly for his wife’s hand; his eyes seemed to be looking inward, elsewhere.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Donnelly tentatively prodded him for some kind of acknowledgement of the situation. His head snapped up from where he was looking at his son, to meet her eyes.

“Yes?”

“What do you think about this idea?”

“At the moment? I think it’s bollocks. Do you not realise that they have probably shared everything with one another? It’s the Golden Trio we’re talking about here, of course they have. And now that they’re all related to one another, even more reason for them to be sharing.”

“Malfoy, we haven’t.” Harry’s eyes danced over in Draco’s direction before flitting away.

“Yeah right, Potter, you can’t expect me to believe that.”

“I can tell you as of right at this moment that there are things about the war that I haven’t told Ron and Hermione.” This time, Harry didn’t look away from Draco. It was Draco’s turn to look away in disgust.

“Why are you trying to reassure me, Potter?”

“Because I think that out of all of us, this… experiment or whatever it is, will help you the most. Unless you’re afraid to.” Harry murmured the last under his breath, but he knew Draco had heard it.

“Excuse me? Afraid? You’ve got to be off your nut, Potter. Fine. Fine. Miss Donnelly, what’ve you got for us?”

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Malfoy.” Laurel waved her hand and journals appeared in front of every adult.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 

_Dear Idiotic Experiment,_

_So Donnelly wants us to write in these journals at the end of every (weekly) session. I can’t believe she would risk voiding confidentiality agreements just to do some lovey-dovey group therapy experiment! She’s persistent though, I’ll give her that._

_Saint Potter and his wanting to help everybody act. He’s the same as he was in school. So… Gryffindor, it makes me gag. I thought I was beyond House rivalry at this point, but apparently seeing the Golden Trio and Weaslette after a decade has magically brought it back._

_Donnelly’s competent, I suppose. She wouldn’t subject any of us to this without a reason. I’ll try this, and see just how far I can take it. For Scorpius._

_Until Next Time,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_I love writing in a journal; it helps to organise my thoughts. Like I said to Ron, I think this would benefit all of us. It is definitely unorthodox, and who knows what the psychological effects will be? Will this actually help us? More specifically, will it help Harry and Malfoy? Yes, we’ve all been scarred by the war; we were essentially child soldiers, but I think Harry and Malfoy stand the most to gain from this. They had the most to lose; the threat of certain death hung over them both, constantly. Out of all of us, Harry sought out a therapist. I think Malfoy did too; his son seemed familiar with the surroundings. It’s fitting that the dragon is his favourite toy._

_The main question that Miss Donnelly wanted us to address: what do I stand to gain from this? That’s a hard question to answer. Closure, maybe? I hadn’t considered therapy before just because life was just too busy. But it’s been ten years. Maybe it’s time._

_HGW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_I don’t really know what to write here. I was relieved when Laurel approached me about this. I hadn’t lied when I told Malfoy that there were things that I hadn’t told Ron or Hermione about back then. I’m hoping that while we do this I’ll be able to talk about some things that I haven’t been able to. I’ve been seeing Laurel on and off since just before James was born. She helped me with some of my fears of becoming a parent, as apart from Molly, I’ve never really had any parental influences._

_I feel bad about goading Malfoy into it. He shouldn’t have had anyone affecting his decision. It’s therapy, not a bet or something. But I really do think this would help him._

_Until next session,_

_HP_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_Why in the buggering hell do I have to do this?! And with bloody Malfoy, of all people. I love ‘Mione, and I see where she’s coming from about how this could help, but Malfoy. Our families have been against one another for years. It’s hard to overcome years of that kind of dislike. It’s ingrained. I’m sure the git feels the same way – he made fun of us all throughout school, even though we are pureblooded too. Everyone always seems to forget that. _

_If he even thinks of saying that M word to her, I’ll rip him apart._

_Ron Weasley_

* * *

_Dear ~~Diary~~ Journal,_

_I am so happy for Harry for making this step._

_~~This is really~~ _

_~~I don’t know~~ _

_I can’t do this._


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

“Welcome back, everyone! So, did we all write in our journals?” Healer Donnelly looked around at everyone gathered. Again, Scorpius was beside his father, on the end of the semicircle of chairs arranged in front of her. She’d made sure there was no gap this time between the chairs; she’d made that faux pas subconsciously, in an attempt to make Mr. Malfoy comfortable. She realised she actually wasn’t doing him any favours by doing that, when this was group therapy. She smiled in satisfaction when she heard the grumbles and saw the nods of assent, from everyone but…

“Mrs. Potter?” Laurel watched as Ginny seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts.

“I didn’t write in it.” She murmured.

“May I ask why?” When her husband opened his mouth to intervene, Laurel shook her head, “I’d like to hear it from her.”

“Writing in journals or diaries is difficult. Haven’t done that since my first year.” Ginny muttered.

“Oh, Gin.” Hermione breathed, reaching across to pat her sister-in-law’s hand. They were so focused on her that they didn’t notice Draco anxiously shift in his seat. Laurel noticed the movement, but decided to hold off putting Mr. Malfoy at the centre of attention just this moment.

“Would it help you if I gave you another medium of recording your thoughts and feelings?” Ginny shrugged.

“I suppose. Might help.” Laurel tossed a square black device to Ginny, who caught it deftly.

“That’s a recorder. Speak into it, and pressing the blue button will print out a transcript of what you say.”

“Thank you.”

“What happened in first year?”

“I’ll answer that.” Draco asserted, avoiding the glare he received from Weasley.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“My father had this diary. I never knew what it actually was until it was too late-”

“Yeah, right.” Ron scoffed. Draco pinned him with a glare.

“I had no idea, Weasley. Why would my father tell me that the diary could write back and possess people? That would just bring unwanted attention upon me, ruin my reputation.”

“Would you have done anything if you _had_ known?” Donnelly asked. There was a long pause as Draco thought about it. He looked over at his son playing on the foam puzzle pieces with the dragon.

“I don’t know. Back then? Probably not. My housemates would’ve taken the mick out of me for helping the Weasley girl. If I’d done that, and my father found out about it… considering he was the one that put it in her things to begin with…” Draco shook his head and looked sidelong at the girl who sat on the other side of Potter. She cradled her daughter close, as much to comfort herself as well as the newborn.

“What about now?” Laurel prompted. Draco sighed.

“I would’ve told the Headmaster, consequences be damned. Knowing what that thing was… I know what it was like, to have a bit of _his_ magic inside you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what my father did. He was unwell, even then. We just didn’t realise how far into _his_ influence father was. Maybe mother did, but I didn’t.”

“Don’t make excuses for your father, Malfoy.” Ron’s voice washed over them like an icy wind. Draco’s eyes slid slowly toward him.

“I wasn’t aware that I was, Weasel. I’m apologising for my father’s actions, because there are always consequences to that kind of magic. I’m apologising because I’m sorry it happened. I’m apologising because my father cannot.”

“And why can’t he, eh Malfoy? Why can’t he apologise for hurting my little sister?” Ron was on his feet now, his voice rising. Hermione snaked a restraining hand around his upper arm, pulling him back into his seat.

“Ron, don’t.” Hermione’s voice was strained.

“Because even if he had any inclination to apologise, which is not in his nature to do, he’s dead, Weasley. He can’t apologise to anyone.” Silence dropped over the room. Scorpius noticed the tension and waddled over, not to Draco, but to Ginny. He held out his dragon.

“Bayee pway with me?” Draco watched his son interact with the new mother. Ginny glanced at Draco, who gave a curt nod. Ginny smiled at Scorpius and looked at Harry, who seemed to understand what she wanted. Harry stood and lifted Scorpius onto the seat Harry had just vacated. Once Scorpius was settled, Harry sat beside Malfoy.

“Of course you can. But she’s very little, so you need to be gentle with her. Her name is Lily.” Ginny whispered conspiratorially to Scorpius.

“Wiwwy.” He said quietly. Ginny chuckled.

“Close enough.” She said. He waved the plush toy in front of the baby, who opened her eyes. She stared, eyes wide, before she made some cooing noises and reached her hands out. Scorpius giggled.

“Dahdee, bayee pway!” Scorpius squealed. One side of Draco’s mouth curled upward in his signature smirk.

“I’m sorry you lost your father.” Harry muttered to Draco, as they watched the two children play. Draco’s smirk disappeared. All Harry got in response was a nod.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

“Gin! I’m taking the kids over to the Burrow!” Harry shouted to her from downstairs. Ginny wandered out of her room and leaned on the banister leading down to the ground level. Harry stood there, glasses askew, James and Albus running around him in circles whilst Lilly slept in his arms.

“Okay Harry. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes? I want to… you know.” Ginny held up the recording device. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, sure. No worries. See you soon, love.” Harry walked out the front door with the boys so that they could do Slide-Along Apparition. Ginny walked back into hers and Harry’s room and sat on the bed. She turned on the device.

“Okay so… these are my thoughts from the second session… it’s weird talking into this this. Uhm… I know that Ron doesn’t believe Draco when he says that he didn’t know what his dad did. I do, though. Draco knows that he has no reason to lie at these sessions, so what would he have to gain? I wasn’t expecting any kind of apology coming from him, though. That was a surprise. Maybe Malfoy has matured, after all. Certainly more so than Ron. I think Ron gets… stuck. He has never adjusted to change well. But you’d think after ten years the animosity between them would have cooled down, at least. But I guess not.” Ginny stood up and started to pace in front of the window. She let loose a shaky sigh.

“I tried so hard to write in that diary last week. I just sat there and sat there. I didn’t realise that nearly an hour had gone by until Harry had told me he’d put the kids to sleep. He’d said I looked ‘deep in thought and didn’t want to bother me’: more like scared out of my bloody mind. I found myself thinking: Am I going to get possessed? Is it going to write back? Irrational, right? I didn’t even know that I was thinking it until after Harry went to bed and I started crying. But this session… Draco’s son is so sweet. I’m not sorry to hear that Lucius died. He was an awful man. But I am sorry to hear that Draco lost his father. Losing a parental figure must be hard. Like when Harry lost Sirius. Or when Hermione had to wipe her parents’ memories and send them away. We’ve all lost people. That’s what war does. It’s all in how we deal with it, really, isn’t it? Harry and I were both worried about being parents with James. I know, me, nervous? I’m the youngest of a whole bunch of kids, and I watched my parents all the time. But seeing them do it for ages and then realising that you have to do it yourself now, and you are responsible for this helpless little being that depends upon you so, so much. It was hard. And Harry… he thought he was going to be a terrible father, even though we all saw him with Teddy. We knew he’d be wonderful. And he is.” Ginny sat down in the nook in front of the window, and gathered a pillow close.

“This week’s question was if you could put yourself in anyone else’s shoes, what would you have done differently to them? I don’t really know… I mean, if I’d been Harry, I don’t know if I would have been selfish enough to sacrifice myself to save everyone else. If I’d been Ron… I would not have left. If’ I’d been Hermione… I would not have forgiven Ron for leaving. If I’d been Draco? I would have gone right to Dumbledore at the beginning of the school year and told him everything. I would have switched sides. But all that would be in a perfect world.”

* * *

_Dear Kumbaya Experiment,_

_Huh. Scorpius likes Potter’s youngest kid. I was not expecting that. What I was expecting even less was to have Potter come and sit next to me, offering condolences. What sort of fresh hell is this? I don’t need pity from anyone. Mother and I have hidden father’s death from the Prophet for nearly a year now, and if they suddenly conjure up an article, I’ll know who to look at: bloody Weasley. Why can he just not grow up?_

_Astoria still hasn’t returned from France. She’s been avoiding my letters, even my floo calls. I don’t know what I’ve done. Or was it something she did? I don’t know._

_Apologising on my father’s behalf… it felt surprisingly good. Not like I’m going to damn my father’s every transgression from the rooftops, but that was something that needed to be acknowledged. My father never said sorry about anything. Not even putting me on the spot to take the Mark. That dastardly thing. I still think he’s_ _in there, waiting to whisper evil things to me, to try and influence me. Gives me the chills just thinking about it. But every time I look at it, that’s what flies through my head. Every time. I dread the day I have to explain it to Scorpius._

_If I could put myself in someone else’s shoes, what would I change about what they’d done? Nothing. There were times when I even wished I was one of them. Then that way I wouldn’t have had to indulge my father in his destructive idealism. Being anyone else that year would’ve been extremely preferable to being me._

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

* * *

_Journal,_

_This week’s question is a loaded one. I don’t quite know how to answer it because we all did things for a reason, didn’t we? Why change it? I wouldn’t change anything that I did, or Hermione or Ron. The only thing I might have changed was Ginny’s anger toward me when I’d come back. But I understand why she was upset. I never said goodbye. Malfoy… well I can’t really put myself in his position. I don’t think I would change anything he did, either. When he was a git to us in school it was because of the way he’d been brought up. When he joined the Death Eaters is was because he hadn’t really had a choice. When he chose to not identify me in the drawing room – I know he recognised me – I’d never been more relieved. He didn’t fight with the Death Eaters, and that’s all I care about. I think he redeemed himself. _

_His son is… cute. He doesn’t have any inhibitions, he’s not afraid of showing his emotions. The fact that he came over to Gin and Malfoy didn’t say anything is a huge step. It shows that Malfoy is not using his father’s prejudices and ideas to influence his own son. This is comforting. Seeing him waving the toy dragon at Lily was adorable. Maybe we do get sorted too soon…_

_HP_

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_If I could put myself in someone else’s shoes, what would I have done differently to them? I wish that Malfoy hadn’t called me “Mudblood” all throughout school. I know it’s just a word, but… the word takes on a completely different meaning when it gets carved into your skin. As for Ron… I wouldn’t have left. He still doesn’t know how badly that tore me apart. Harry is the only one, even now, who really knows how I felt during those days without Ron, wondering if he was even alive. I barely ate, barely slept. Harry nearly had to force feed me a few times. I know that the locket latched onto your deepest, darkest thoughts and insecurities, and I know Ron was worried about his family and not hearing anything. I know all of that. But every time I put that locket around my neck, all I heard was that I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve to be there; in Hogwarts, even in the wizarding world, in any world. The world would be better off if I’d died. That having magic meant I’d stolen it from somewhere, that I was an abomination. Funny, how all of those things stem from a single word that you’ve heard all throughout your formative years. I heard all of that, and I didn’t leave. I didn’t abandon my friends when they needed me. So that kind of betrayal has been hard to forget. I probably should talk to him about it, but I could never muster up that Gryffindor courage that we’re so well known for._

_But I don’t hate Draco for it, for saying that word to me all the time. Gods, no. It eventually made me stronger. It made me able to stare Bellatrix down and lie to her face whilst I was experiencing the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life. So I suppose I owe Draco a thank-you._

_HGW_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_If I could switch places with anyone, I would switch places with Hermione. I would have tried to make her understand why I’d left. I know she still feels some kind of resentment, or anger over it. I’m sorry for that. That even ten years later, she’s still feeling something negative about it. I was a kid, and I was scared and stupid. I just wish she knew that.  _

_If I’d been Malfoy, I wouldn’t have been a right smarmy git right from the get go. But, well, that’s Slytherin for you._

_Until next time,_

_Ron Weasley_


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

“Where is your wonderful son, Mr. Malfoy? The play area is empty without him.” Miss Donnelly asked once everyone was settled. He looked at her with that signature smirk of his.

“I asked Mother to look after him today.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“Scorpius missed his grandmother. I saw no reason why Mother couldn’t look after him today.” The smirk disappeared as he spoke. Laurel noticed he was always so serious and guarded at these sessions.

“Fair enough. Now, considering the success we had with the last session, I thought we would bounce off of some of the things that were said in order to continue with this session. Mr. Weasley-”

“Please, just call me Ron. You call me that and I look around for my father.” Hermione gave a small smile at her husband’s words.

“He’s right, you know. It’s rather funny.” Laurel’s eyes brightened as she thought of an idea.

“Okay, since you insist on my calling you by your first name, I suggest that we should all attempt to do that with each other. So, Ron, I insist on you calling me Laurel.”

“Alright, Laurel.” Ron’s smile was befuddled with this new idea.

“Back to my question. Ron, why did you say you didn’t believe Mr- Draco when he said that he didn’t know anything about the diary?” The silence persisted to the point that Draco made a sound of disgust and turned to Laurel.

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s never got over believing I’m downright evil because I’m Slytherin and a former Death Eater. I’ll have you know that Father was more nefarious than I ever was. And he didn’t always share his ideas. Not even with his son, I’ll have you know. Give me Veritaserum, Weasel-”

“Draco-”

“Fine, fine Laurel. Ronald. If I’m willing to take Veritaserum, which, I’ll have you know, would leave me in quite a position as you could ask me any question at all and I would have to answer honestly, why would I have any reason to lie to you?”

“Ron, I believe him.” Ginny said. Ron looked at her in shock.

“How, Gin?”

“I just do. Look, it’s in all of our best interest for this experiment if we’re truthful right? So why in the name of Merlin would he lie? He’s got no reason to, if he’s taking the therapy seriously. You are taking it seriously, right… Draco?” She watched as he gave a non-committal shrug.

“Yeah, kind of have to, don’t I? Like you said, that is how therapy works.”

“Let’s move on. Laurel, what other questions did you have?”

“Well, it’s not a question, but a request. Draco, you mentioned your father last session, and that he passed away.”

“Correct.”

“Why don’t you tell us about that.”

“See, I knew this was what you were going to ask me to talk about. Why would I want my son here for this? He would just ask questions. Questions that he wouldn’t understand the answers to.”

“Sometimes it is good for young children to ask questions about their families.  Take me, for instance. My family never recorded anything down, really. I never thought to ask about my great-grandparents or my ancestors. Now all of my family members are gone, and so that makes it hard to find information about my family. So if Scorpius takes interest? It’s not a bad thing. And if you’re not ready for him to hear the answers, or he’s not old enough to understand them, then that’s okay, too. Tell him that. So… your father?”

“He died just under a year ago, and we’ve managed to keep it out of the Prophet so far, so if there’s suddenly an article, I’ll know who yapped,” He said irritably, glancing around the room. “Anyway... he kept himself alive just long enough to see my son take his first steps. After the war… the war changed him. To have had these ideals that he so ardently believed in, believed in so much that he would offer up his only son to the Dark Lord with no regrets, to suddenly disappear? It kind of crushed him. He did make attempts… to let go of the ideals that he held, but to have been taught something from birth, and then to have those same ideas be espoused by one of the greatest dark wizards ever, makes it-just hard.”

“How about when he interacted with your son?” Laurel asked. Draco seemed to draw in on himself; his gaze didn’t seem to rest on anything in the room.

“Things were okay, at first. Doting grandfather. Then he would start murmuring things to Scorpius. Things that I couldn’t hear, but I knew that they weren’t words of endearment to my son. Then one day, I cast a charm so I could listen in. He was telling Scorpius about how things worked traditionally for a pureblood family – which Astoria and I were fine with.”

“You just let him indulge himself in his ideologies while talking to your son?” Hermione asked hesitantly. Dracon glared at her, but she could see the nerves that cloaked him, how much he didn’t want to talk about this, He drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair, and then just gripped them tightly as he spoke.

“Just because Astoria and I didn’t necessarily hold all of those beliefs any more, _Hermione_ , if it comforted my father to tell Scorpius about them, then we didn’t see any harm. But it was when Father started talking to Scorpius about the war that we were worried. We didn’t want Scorpius to be exposed to such violence at a young age. He wasn’t even a year old! He started to withdraw from everybody. Then he would only talk to Scorpius. There were times when Father withheld my son from me. So then Astoria and I decided with Mother’s support that Father shouldn’t get to look after or interact with him. It was damaging.”

“What was your father’s reaction?” Laurel asked. She could see Draco’s eyes darting around the room, clearly wanting an escape; his chest started rising and falling at a remarkable rate, even though the rest of his body stayed still as if he’d been petrified. His hands, gripped around the arms of the armchair showcased his ghostly white knuckles. Hermione saw as well, and looked to Laurel. When Laurel did nothing, the silence mounted, only serving to make Draco’s barely concealed gasps for air all the more audible. Hermione gave a grumble and got to her feet, avoiding Ron’s restrictive grasp as she walked over to Draco, kneeling so the height difference wasn’t so great.

“Mal-Draco, put your head between your knees.” He managed to glare at her, even though his panic seemed to be overriding much of his signature aloofness.

“’Mione, what’re you doing?” Ron demanded. Hermione whirled to face him.

“Look Ronald, we’ve all had them, right? We were there to help each other through it. I hardly think Draco wants to pass out on the floor, so just hush.” She looked back at Draco expectantly, and he managed to give her another glare before he did as she asked.

“Now, a deep breath in for the count of five. One, two, three, four, five. Good. Hold that breath. One, two, three, four, five. Let it out. One, two, three, four, five. You’re doing great. Keep doing that.” She remained kneeling by him until his breathing evened out. He slowly sat back up, spine ramrod straight. His face was expressionless, not betraying the events of the last few minutes. Then she went back to her seat. Laurel cleared her throat.

“Well I think that’s it for the day. See you next week.” Draco couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

* * *

 

The two couples walked through Diagon Alley, but no one was taking in the new merchandise in the windows.

“I wonder how exactly his father reacted, for him to have a panic attack.” Harry wondered. The concern showed clearly on his face. Ginny nudged him.

“We’ll find out. Hermione’s right. We’ve all had panic attacks and helped one another. Clearly Malfoy’s wife isn’t around, and who knows about Narcissa. We all know he’ll refuse to tell anyone else.” Ginny shrugged.

“Gin, let’s go to the Leaky. I think I need a Butterbeer.” Ginny was already nodding. Ron cleared his throat.

“Gin, why don’t I take Lils over to Mum’s? Then you can have some time to yourselves.” Ginny looked at Ron for a moment, who squirmed under her gaze. He looked relieved when Ginny handed him her daughter. He held her close and gave the two parents a smile.

“Thanks, Ron. We’ll come around in a few hours to pick her up.” Harry slung Lily’s bag off his shoulder and Hermione took it from him. They parted ways then, Harry and Ginny heading into the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as they entered, Ginny nudged Harry in the ribs.

“Ow, Gin! What the-?” Then he focused on where Ginny nodded her head. Draco was sitting at the bar, and Tom was pouring him a drink. Firewhiskey, it looked like. Draco knocked it back like it was nothing, and raised his glass to Tom, who poured him another healthy amount. Ginny and Harry sat on either side of him. When Draco noticed that he suddenly had companions, and who they were, he groaned and laid his head on the table. Ginny and Harry looked at one another over Draco’s bowed head. They’d never seen Draco so expressive before. This was completely out of character for him.

“I don’t need to see you more than once a week, Pothead and Weaslette.”

“We didn’t even know you were here until we came in, Malfoy.” Harry pointed out. Draco straightened up, but his eyes wouldn’t meet either of theirs.

“What do you want?” Draco muttered under his breath. Ginny sighed.

“We just wanted to make sure you hadn’t Splinched yourself getting home, or something.” Ginny finished rather lamely. Draco barked out a laugh.

“You wanted to make sure I hadn’t passed out, more like.” The mocking tone was back in his voice. Harry sighed. 

“Look, Malfoy. Hermione – she wasn’t lying when she said that – you know – we’ve all been through that. Attacks. Right after the war… I had to take Dreamless Sleep potion nearly every night so I wouldn’t wake up screaming.” Harry shrugged.

“Overuse of some potions can be dangerously addictive. Dreamless Sleep is one of them.” Draco murmured absently. Ginny looked confused.

“How do you know that?”

“I read alchemical manuscripts for a living. They are the basis for modern muggle chemistry as we know it today, and Potions, by extension. I know the properties and side effects of all well-known potions, and some of the lesser known ones.” Some of his haughtiness had returned. Harry nodded, agreeing with him.

“Yeah. I know. Had to wean myself off of them when I realised how bad it was for me to take them as often as I was. But it took months. Look, Malfoy, we’re just trying to say that your panic attack isn’t something to hide from or be ashamed of. I still have the odd one every few months, over something stupid. I’ll hear the kettle hissing, and it’ll remind me of Nagini. Or I’ll hear one of my kids yell as they’re playing, and I’m back at the Manor.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Draco said sharply. Harry put his hands up in a soothing gesture.

“Alright. But Draco, you’re going to have to talk about what happened with someone. The fact that you had a panic attack means that it was something traumatic, and you can’t keep that stuff bottled inside,” Harry stopped as Draco’s expression became one of surprise. “What?”

“You called me by my first name. Outside of session.” Draco’s surprise seemed to make Harry think back over the last sixty seconds.

“I guess I did. I learned something over these ten years. A few things, actually. One of them is that I don’t hate anymore. I can’t hate. It’s overwhelmingly exhausting. The second, more important one is that if I see someone who is in some kind of pain, and I can do something about it? I do something about it.”

“Bloody Gryffindors. You and your need to be so bloody helpful. Well you can just bugger off.” Draco’s words were slurring a bit by now.

“I think we should get you home.”

“I can get _myself_ home, thank you.” He leaned over the bar and tapped his hand on it. Tom ambled slowly over to his customer.

“Y’know that’s gonna be extra.” Tom said, knowing what Draco wanted. Draco rolled his eyes and slapped down the galleons. Tom passed him some Pepper-Up potion. Draco downed it, making a face at the gruesome taste. He glanced at the couple, then stood, getting his cloak. He brushed by them as he headed toward the exit.

“See you next week.” He muttered. He apparated to the Manor, and made his way inside.

“DAHDEE!” Scorpius came around the corner, crawling so as to get to his destination quicker. Draco met him halfway and lifted him into his arms as his mother caught up with them.

“Hey, bud. Fancy a nap?” His son lit up at the words.

“Nap time? With Dahdee?” Scorpius clarified.

“Yeah, just you and me, kid.” Draco was already taking them upstairs.

“Bye gamma!” Scorpius shouted to Narcissa, who stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Draco, love. Is everything okay?”

“Yes Mother. I’m just tired. I need to have a nap. I want to be with my son. Has Astoria come back?” Draco could see his Mother’s answer in the way that their eyes lost the warmth that had filled them upon looking at her son and grandson.

“She’s still in France, apparently.”

“Thanks for looking after Scorpius, Mother. Can you get the House Elves to wake us up in a couple of hours for dinner?”

“Of course.” Narcissa watched her son go upstairs, noted the heaviness that surrounded him, like he was being weighed down by something. She wondered what had caused it. She turned around and walked towards the study, gathering parchment, ink, and quill.

She intended to find out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone that has left Kudos, subscirbed, and/or bookmarked - you're all awesome! Please review with constructive criticism because I want to know how my fic is doing. Thanks!


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Ginny lay down in her bed to read the transcript from the recorder that she’d done a couple of days ago, in anticipation of the next session tomorrow. The kids were asleep, and Harry snored lightly beside her, an arm thrown over her stomach.

_Dear Journal_

_I never really liked Draco. He was always so mean to my family and my friends. But seeing him today… I think I finally saw him as a person, rather than the embodiment of the Malfoy name and all that entailed. Or, well, used to entail. It seems as though things have changed, for the better. But I think in doing that, it has destroyed a part of Malfoy, going against his father._

_He’s not so bad after all. I just wish I knew what had caused the panic attack. I hated it when I got my panic attacks. Sometimes it would be when someone took much longer than normal to come home. Sometimes when one of the kids shouts while they’re playing and I’m back to the Battle Of Hogwarts. I hear a dog bark, or growl, and I think Fenrir Greyback is nearby, sometimes. Things are much, much better now. But to think that other people are still suffering now, are still facing the cruelty that we experienced a decade ago. We didn’t have a question this week, so I don’t really know what else to say._

* * *

_Journal,_

_I can’t believe Miss Donnelly did nothing as Draco had a panic attack right in front of her! If I hadn’t intervened, he would’ve passed out. Whatever his father had done in response to no longer having access to his grandson must’ve been… scary, to say the least, to shake Draco so much. I can’t even imagine what Draco has gone through all of these years underneath his father’s roof. It’s just unconscionable to have allowed that kind of… abuse. I actually feel really sorry for him. The only reason how I knew exactly how to help him was right after the war. Harry and I were living together in Grimmauld Place, as I hadn’t gone to Australia yet to find my parents. One night Harry started screaming. I ran into his room, thinking he was being attacked. He was just thrashing in his bed, and when I woke him up… he didn’t see me, but he started hyperventilating. I tried really hard to calm him down, but it didn’t work. I ended up having to Stupefy him; when I woke him up in the morning, he was so confused. I had to explain to him that he’d had a panic attack. He kept denying and denying, and he avoided me the rest of that day. When he did accept it, later on that evening, he cried for the first time since the war. He cried, and raged. I was relieved that Harry had felt safe enough to break down, and finally try to come to grips with everything. He is the expert of shoving things so deep down inside that they never come out. They just fester, and fester. I don’t think Draco ever felt safe enough to do that, hence the panic attack when confronted with whatever happened. I feel sorry for him. Ron tried to hold me back from helping him. I love Ron… and that seems to be my default excuse for allowing his childish behaviour, I know, but I do. I don’t know what demons he’s battling, but it’s preventing him from moving on from all this dislike. I haven’t been… with him, since we started this therapy. I think it’s because I just think what he’s doing is childish. I think I’m mad at him. I mean I thought we were all beyond House rivalry by now, but I guess not._

_HGW_

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_I’m glad Hermione helped Draco, even though I knew she was only doing it because Laurel wasn’t. I think that Laurel wanted to see who would help. Hermione was always the mother hen of our group. She always made sure that Ron and I were up to date with our classes, made sure we ate, reminded us when things were due, helped us with those assignments, kept us from dying while we were on the run… there were so many things that she’s done for us. Even Ginny, when we got married and she got pregnant. Hermione read all the books, came around nearly every weekend to experiment with things that would soothe her stomach. When I couldn’t go to the meetings with the Healer because of work, Hermione went, even cleared her schedule sometimes to do it. I’m forever grateful for her. She’s like the sister I never had. If she can deal with me having a full on night terror induced panic attack, she can deal with anything. Malfoy shouldn’t have to go through whatever he’s going through on his own. His wife clearly isn’t around – why isn’t she? Wasn’t part of this experiment to have our spouses with us, too? Why is she exempt from the rule? I just don’t get it, but I don’t think whatever reason she gave to Laurel was good enough. Malfoy is struggling. I think I’m going to try and find her, tell her that her absence isn’t helping. Having panic attacks are the worst, and Laurel kind of capitalised on that, I think. I get why – she wanted him to be vulnerable so that we – Ron especially – could see him as a person rather than some Slytherin acolyte and former Death Eater. I think she also wanted to remind us that she can make any of us vulnerable, too. We need it. We’re all way too guarded, especially after ten years since the war. We all need to open up a little. _

_HP_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_Why did you force Hermione into helping the ferret? I did not want her going near him. It just hits too close to that day at the Manor, while Harry and I were downstairs, hearing her scream for her life. And then to hear the deafening silence after, and we didn’t know whether she was alive or dead, and I kind of wanted her to start screaming again so that I’d know she was still with us. Knowing Malfoy was there, and he did nothing… it just riles me up. So what, he was scared? We all were, and yet the three of us managed to hunt down the Horcruxes and make He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killable. It just makes me wonder what got Malfoy into a tizzy today… and why Hermione took it upon herself to help the git. _

_RW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_I don’t really know what to write for this session, since there was no question to guide it. All I can say is that I am happy to have my son beside me, and that my father is gone from this world. He was a menace on my life and my family. Is it bad, to be happy he’s gone? Or does it make me just like him, to have no remorse?_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

_  
_


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I must ask what you have done with my son, Draco. I am aware sessions are confidential, but surely if he has been walking around like the shell of himself, barely eating, screaming in his sleep, there is something you may tell me as his parent? Thus far, I am unimpressed with your ability to heal my son, or help him heal himself. I have tried talking with him about it, but he is withdrawn. He is only the most himself when interacting with his son, but I believe part of that is an act so Scorpius, an already astute child, will not ask questions. But he is not himself at the present time. Fix it, or I will withdraw him from this farce you call therapy. It is by no means therapeutic._

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Laurel sighed as she looked over the letter. She was waiting for all of her clients, and so this was the perfect time to look through her post. Between this one and the first one she’d received from Astoria, Laurel didn’t really know where to begin. There was a knock on the door and Laurel put her post away.

“Come on in!” Draco poked his head in, and, relieved that nobody was there yet, walked inside. Scorpius did not accompany him again. Laurel most likely wouldn’t have noticed the slightly haggard look to him had she not received Narcissa’s letter, and she offered him a cup of coffee. He took it with a nod of thanks and sat down, seeming to collapse in on himself with exhaustion. He stared into his cup of coffee.

“Your mother wrote me a letter.” Laurel blurted. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

“I assumed she would. I’ve not been… myself. She’s been concerned all week. Don’t respond to the letter. I’ll talk to her.”

“I’m more than happy to write back.”

“No need. I know why you pushed me. It was necessary. She’ll understand better if it comes from me.” Draco took a long drink of his coffee, sighing in relief at the caffeine boost. The silence reigned but Draco knew that Laurel was itching to apologise. Draco chuckled and shook his head.

“What is it, Draco?”

“Don’t bother apologising. You wouldn’t really mean it; this is your job. You have to break us down before you can help us heal. You were just doing your job, and while Mother might highly dislike your methods, it’s not her therapy. It’s mine.”

“Okay. Fair enough.” Draco inclined his head in thanks and took another long gulp of coffee, when the door opened and The Couples came in. That’s what he thought of them as: The Couples. The youngest Weasley didn’t have her little one with her. That’s what he noticed first. Ginny, looking to greet Draco, noticed his searching eyes and knew who he was looking for. She gave a hesitant smile.

“My parents decided to kidnap her for the bank holiday. They will be taking her to Bournemouth. She promised to take pictures.”

“That is nice. She will enjoy it.” Draco muttered to her. They all sat down in the chairs they thought of as ‘theirs’ for the sessions. Once everyone was settled with tea, coffee, and biscuits, Laurel started.

“So, I think it’s prudent that we change tack. There’s been a lot of focus on a few of us, so now it’s time to switch that focus on others. Ronald.” When Laurel called his name, he had just put a biscuit into his mouth. He swallowed, washed it down with some tea, and looked at her.

“Yeah?” He’s voice was a little apprehensive.

“What was it like, growing up with so many siblings?”

“Why does everybody ask that?” he grumbled, fiddling with his now empty mug.

“Maybe it’s because people think it’s wonderful. I grew up an only child. That can be lonely. What do you think, Hermione?”

“There are advantages to being the only child. You get everything, including your parents’ attention… but yeah, it does get lonely. That’s why when I got to Hogwarts and met Ron and Harry, Harry became like the brother I never had.” Hermione glanced at Harry and shrugged. Harry gave her a smile.

“I feel the same way, sis.” He murmured back.

“It was… okay,” Ron grudgingly started. He kept glancing back at Ginny, but she was stoically focusing her attention on Laurel. “You have to understand, Mum and Dad always did their best, and we never went without. But when it came to going to Hogwarts… my first wand wasn’t even mine; it was my brother Charlie’s. When I got to my third year, I thought to myself that if I ever received another item of Charlie’s, or Bill’s that I would move out or something. Get a job. Being the sixth boy in a line of boys meant that I got everything they grew out of. I never had anything that was _mine_. It made me angry, all the time. We were purebloods too. But we were never treated like we were. The blood status didn’t matter to me, but the attitude did. But being constantly made to feel like you’re second rate, it’s depressing”

“Mum and Dad love you, Ron.” Ginny murmured. Ron sighed in frustration.

“I _know_ , Gin. But it was different for you. You were the first girl, so they had to get you all new stuff. You had stuff that was yours, you know? I never felt that way. Ever. And then the Slytherins kept taking the mick, and then _you_ were with Krum-”

“Ron, I _told_ you nothing happened.” Hermione rolled her eyes; this seemed to be an old argument between them.

“I know! I know! Let me finish. Then everyone was making fun of my Keeping skills… the list goes on. It just seemed like from day one, everything was against me.” Ron slumped in his seat.

"Try being groomed to be a Death Eater since birth, Ronald. It's not a party."

"He might not have believed you, Draco, but he did not belittle your upbringing or your experience. Owe him the same courtesy." For the first time, Laurel's voice was brittle.

"I apologise. Continue." Draco looked at Ron calmly, who noticed how remarkably subdued Draco was. He looked at Draco in suspicion.

"I just felt… suffocated all the time. And then I left." It was clear he hadn't meant to say that, given the stricken look he flung at Hermione, but she patted his hand.

"It's okay, Ron." She murmured, bringing up their joined hands to quickly kiss his knuckles. Ron glanced at Harry, then at Malfoy. Harry shrugged.

"He's got no reason to tell anyone, mate. Go for it."

"Tell anyone what?" Draco wondered, too tired to keep up his uninterested act.

"What d'you know about Horcruxes, Mal-Draco?"

"Hmmmm… they're a way to divide the soul safely, though that term is relative, I suppose. Other than that, nothing."

"During the year Snape was Headmaster, we were on the run."

"I know that. You did end up in my drawing room, if I recall." Draco's condescending tone was back; clearly the coffee was helping him find his old self again.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named divided his soul into seven Horcruxes. It was our job to find them and destroy them. The diary was one." Ron muttered. Draco's eyes widened in understanding.

"So that's why it seemed to take on a life of its own. Why it was able to talk back to you and ultimately possess you. A bit of him was inside."

"Yeah." Ginny nodded.

"We found one. It was a locket. We all had to wear it in shifts to keep it safe, but when we wore it, it manipulated or thoughts, so we only focused on the bad ones. So none of us could wear it for too long."

"What did it make you think?" Draco murmured, in spite of himself.

"That I was second rate, that I was worthless, that I was just another one of my parents' failed attempts at having a girl. That I wouldn't amount to anything. That there was no way that the smartest witch of our age could love me. That Harry was only friends with me because he felt sorry for me."

"Mate, that's-" but Harry was swiftly interrupted by Ron talking over him. It seemed as though now that Ron had started, he couldn't stop.

"That my parents were probably dead and I couldn't do anything about it because I was stuck in the woods with the two people that everyone thought were perfect for each other. That even if I had been there to protect them, that I would have failed anyway because I'm weak. That I would never amount to anything. That I was a sorry excuse for a pureblood. That I deserved to die. That no one would care if I did." Ron's voice cracked at the end and he hid his face against his draw up knees. Tears were rolling freely down Hermione's face at his confession, and Ginny was grasping her hand that wasn't gripped tightly in Ron's. Harry just looked dazed.

"The locket made you think all of that?" Shock wore out Draco's need for propriety.

"It preyed on our insecurities. Mate, why didn't you just tell us?" Harry turned to Ron. Ron wouldn't look up, and you could hear him inhale deeply.

"It said that you wouldn't care, that you would just laugh at me and tell me to suck it up. It was kind of right, you know."

"What do you mean?" Hermione's voice was harp, cutting.

"You were basically telling me to suck it up, or, failing that, you'd take my shifts upon yourself. That night we had The Argument. All back to me being weak and useless." Ron's voice made it sound to Draco like those two words deserved capitalisation.

"Ron, we love you. We would have been beside ourselves if you'd died. We would have cared." Hermione's voice trembled as she spoke.

"Mate, just like I've told every single tabloid and every single person since you and Hermione started officially dating, Hermione is my sister. Nothing more." Ron huffed angrily at his words and stood up suddenly, letting go of Hermione's hand in the process.

"I know that! Rationally, I knew that. All of that. But that thing made me think all of these things and nothing else. It was just Hogwarts all over again with the name calling and feeling inferior. And I couldn't deal. And I abandoned you. So I'm a coward on top of it all."

"No, Ronald. You're not a coward. With a curse like that… you're all quite lucky you weren't driven completely, irrevocably insane. You were just the one to break first, Ronald, because at the time, you seemed to have the most present insecurities during that time in your life. You'd just abandoned your huge family to walk into the unknown. You would have been feeling out of sorts no matter what, curse or no curse. You were the one most afraid of consequences at the time. That does not make you any of the things that this locket said you were. It made you an afraid young man who cares for his family and was torn. And yes, you may have made what you feel is the wrong decision. I don't think it was wrong."

"Why in the blazes not? I abandoned my friends while we were being hunted by every bad guy in existence!"

"That may be true, but I think you were also giving your mind a time out. It was under a lot of stress... If you hadn't, insanity was a definite possibility. And I think your mind knew that, which prompted the break down."

"I didn't know." Ginny murmured. Ron sat down and looked at her.

"What?"

"We were all so hard on you when you came to us. We had no idea about any of that. If we had… I was so, so hard on you I'm so sorry." Tears were falling earnestly down Ginny's face now as she looked at her brother.

“You were right to act the way you did, Gin. They all were. I left, and I shouldn’t have. I had none of the Gryffindor courage that we’re defined by. It was impossible to be that when I was feeling the way I was for _months_. It makes it difficult to move past anything. I get stuck, or something. I can’t help but think about all the bad stuff all the time. And I don’t understand it. I’m co-owner of WWW, I have a wonderful wife, children… I don’t understand. It’s just overwhelming.”

“Had you considered seeing a therapist before now?”

“Nope. Didn’t think it was necessary. I thought what I was feeling was normal, as someone who survived the war.” Ron shrugged, still hugging his knees to his chest protectively.

“I’m going to recommend someone to you after the session. In addition to PTSD, which you all have in some variation, many of the people who survive the war also suffered from depression. It could have been from the acts they’d committed, forced or otherwise. Or it could be from who they’ve lost. There are a lot of reasons for depression. I believe you would benefit from other sessions elsewhere.”

“Okay.” Ron mumbled, hiding his face once more. That settled, Laurel looked around the room.

“What did the rest of you feel?” Harry leaned forward, clasping his hands together.

“Mine was all about failure. That I wouldn’t find all the Horcruxes. That Voldemort would succeed and torture all of us for our outright opposition of him and his beliefs. That I’d been a failure my whole life, so much so that even my mother’s sister, her husband, and their son abused me for it. That I deserved that abuse. That my parents looked forward to their death, and I was the cause of it – which is technically true, anyway.” Harry mumbled the last bit, and he noticed Hermione shaking her head at him.

“Harry, we’ve spoken about this. You can’t play the blame game. You’ll go nuts. The blame could just as easily be placed on Trelawney, who made the prophecy in the first place.”

“Or Dumbledore. He’s the one that told you everything and made sure you did what he said.” Ron added.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Harry mumbled, leaning back in his chair. Laurel glanced at the last person to have experienced the locket’s ill effects.

“Hermione?”

“Uhm… do I have to?” Hermione wouldn’t meet anyone’s gazes.

“Not if you don’t feel comfortable, that’s fine. Write about it in your journal, perhaps?” Laurel suggested, inwardly slightly disappointed that Hermione did not contribute. Perhaps her wounds about the locket were buried more deeply.

“Okay… I’ll do that, then.” Hermione seemed to lose some of the tension in her shoulders when Laurel had made the suggestion. Draco’s eyes narrowed. She was looking anywhere but at him. Draco had a sickening feeling that whatever she experienced had some root in the names he’d called her all throughout school. Particularly the one that had been carved into her arm.

Sorrow crashed over him, just another wave in a tumultuous sea.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Ron put their two year old daughter Rose into bed and came back downstairs to join his wife at the kitchen island, where she was sitting with a book open.

“You’ve been quiet, love.” Ron uttered, in an attempt to get her to speak to him. There was an even longer silence in return, before Hermione closed her book and looked at him.

“So have you, Ron.” Hermione returned. He hadn’t said a word to her as they travelled home from their session, and hadn’t even really spoken to her until just now. He grinned sheepishly, a blush creeping up his neck, a sign he was embarrassed.

“I guess so, yeah.” He cleared his throat.

“You want to know why I didn’t say anything at the session about what I thought while I wore the locket.”

“Well, of course I do.”

“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t ready to. I’ve written about it, a little, in the journal. But I need to let what I wrote about it settle in my mind for a bit before I say anything. It won’t affect just me to talk about it, either.” Ron noticed the way that Hermione absently smoothed her hand over her arm as she spoke. The arm that had that wretched scar on it. Then he understood.

“You’re sparing _his_ feelings?” Ron asked incredulously. Hermione shook her head.

“No – well, technically I guess I am? So much of what I thought while I wore that thing were things that I thought about myself all throughout school. It was confirmed by all of those Slytherins, all the time. It’s hard to separate those thoughts from what was actually happening at the time while we were on the run. And why. I don’t think I fully came to grips with all of the name calling in school, and the Manor, and the locket. So I need to run things through in my head, first, before I talk about it. I’m proud of you, though.” She said the last bit with no small sound of pride. She kissed his cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute and caught her lips with his own. His hand slid up her arm to cradle her head. When they broke for air, he pressed his forehead to hers, smiling widely.

“That was nice.” He said, breathless. Hermione, just as breathless as him, smiled back.

* * *

Ginny and Harry were curled up on the couch, their two children sleeping.

“I had no idea that the locket would make you think things like that. It’s awful, babe.” She was sliding her hands through his messy locks the way he liked. He was barely conscious, the soothing motions lulling him into dozing.

“It wasn’t great, no. But I had no idea about _Ron_. He never struck me as someone who particularly cared about being made fun of. Don’t get me wrong, it made him angry, but I never thought…” He trailed off, unable to express himself. Ginny hummed in agreement.

“I feel so bad. I was so harsh to him when he came to us. I yelled, screamed, hit him, called him a lowlife, a sorry excuse for a brother – why would I do that? Why? He’s family, I shouldn’t have done that. Ever. I just… oh god.” She unwound herself from her husband and curled in on herself, rocking to prevent the tears from falling. Harry reached for her but she held him off with a hand that shook slightly with the emotion she was trying to hold in.

“You were angry at him. Hell, I was angry at him when he left. Hermione was devastated. More than I think she’ll ever admit. But you’re his brother, you know he’s been taught better than that, _and_ you had absolutely no idea what was happening to him – none of us did, really. And you were home for the hols, after being in a Hogwarts that wasn’t Hogwarts anymore, and if I know you – which I think I do, immensely well,” Harry smirked, and Ginny uncurled herself long enough to smack his arm. “Hey! Anyway, Hogwarts wasn’t Hogwarts anymore, which pissed you off… made you scared of what was to come. I mean, the Carrows would not have hurt you, not really. You’re still pureblood. They wouldn’t want to risk you, they’d rather had somehow convinced you to join them until you made it absolutely clear that you wouldn’t side with them. But the idea of them being there and ruining Hogwarts, and their unspoken threat of violence to you, and actual violence they committed against students… that’s unbearable. You were under a lot of stress. It makes sense, how you reacted to Ron coming back. How could you not?” Harry couldn’t think of anything else to say, but Ginny reached over and hugged him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Harry asked, befuddled.

“For being you. You know just what to say.” 

* * *

 

Draco walked into the Manor, and when Scorpius didn’t waddle over to him, he grew anxious. Then, Mother met him at the door.

“He’s asleep. He tired himself out playing,” Narcissa led her son into the dining area, where food appeared courtesy of the elves.

“Mother, I know you wrote to Miss Donnelly.” Draco said without further preamble.

“Yes, Draco, I did. You looked miserable. That is uncalled for, knowing that she is the cause.”

“She is not the cause, Mother. What I’ve been through is the cause, alright? She is helping. This group experiment is actually working. I’ve felt more myself than I have been since the day Scorpius was born. Yes, it’s exhausting, yes, I’ll probably look like a miserable sod more often. But facing all of this… it’s necessary. For me to be the best father to Scorpius. I need to face all of this so that when the day comes that I need to tell him all of this – and Mother, I will tell him _all_ of it – I won’t back down from that challenge. Scorpius might well hate me that day, who knows? But at least I won’t be afraid to tell him. I won’t be afraid to face the fallout.” Draco suddenly fell silent, after his abrupt moment of intensity. He stared down at his food, but realised that he wasn’t hungry. Mother’s hand touched his own, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Her eyes were shining, and she gripped his hand hard, her voice trembling with the effort to keep in tears as she said her next words.

“I’m so proud of you, Draco.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

“Welcome back, everyone. I’m so pleased so far with everyone’s progress. Harry.” Harry looked up at Laurel, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about your relationship with Dumbledore.” Harry seemed surprised at the question, but he ultimately shrugged.

“He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He kept us all safe until he couldn’t. He was really, really powerful.”

“Generalisations, Harry.”

“Right. Sorry. He was like… the grandfather I never had, I guess? He was wise, he helped me when he could and when I needed it. He protected me from Voldemort in my fifth year, at the Ministry, when that could have easily been it for me. He always reminded me that I wasn’t alone – which helped because, believe me, Voldemort wanted to make sure I was isolated from everybody. But then… I realised that a lot of that was just to keep me close and alive until I could face Voldemort and die.” Utter silence was met with Harry’s words. Draco broke it in his shock.

“Wait, Potter, sorry Laurel – Harry. Wasn’t that was just a myth? When that barmy gamekeeper brought you from the forest, you were playing dead.”

“I was playing dead.” Harry affirmed, watching the confusion overtake Draco’s face.

“So then you were alive.”

“I was.”

“Stop being obtuse, Harry.”

“When I went into the Forbidden Forest, and Voldemort pointed his wand at me and said the Killing Curse, I dropped my – your – wand back into my pocket. I was unarmed. For the last of the Horcruxes to be destroyed and to finally have Voldemort vulnerable, I had to die. Which meant that I couldn’t fight back. So, he killed me. But I was given a choice to come back. So I did.”

“ _You_ were a Horcrux?”

“Yes. But I didn’t realise until the very last minute. Which I suppose was what Dumbledore wanted. He wouldn’t have wanted me to find out too early, and back out because I wanted to live.” Harry’s voice was bitter.

“So he groomed you. Like a pig for slaughter.” Draco’s voice held no inflection at all. Harry seemed shaken by Draco’s choice of words.

“Yes… that’s exactly what Snape said. How he described it.”

“What does our Potions teacher have to do with this?” Draco wondered.

“He loved my mother. He played spy for Dumbledore to protect her, and when she died, Dumbledore continued to have him spy to protect me, keep me alive. He did it for her. And he died for it. Dumbledore used him, too.”

“Did that make you angry, Harry?” Laurel asked.

“Not at first, no. Ron, Hermione and I knew that the Horcruxes had to be destroyed. When I found out I was a Horcrux, it was during the Battle of Hogwarts. We were losing. Badly. I had no choice but to go into the Forbidden Forest, like he wanted. Voldemort had to die. I knew all of that, so I wasn’t angry at the time. Too much was happening. But after… I was so unbelievably angry. Dumbledore was gone, and to me that was a coward’s way out. I was a kid. Just a kid, and yet Dumbledore started all of this. Telling me things about Voldemort, showing me things about him in the Pensieve. He did all of this, knowing that I would eventually have to die.”

“You didn’t know that you would be given a choice to come back, did you?” Ginny asked him.

“No. I didn’t. It was so scary. I regretted not saying goodbye to any of you. But I knew if I did, you wouldn’t let me go and I wouldn’t want to go. Or, you would come with me, and I needed to do that on my own, because if you came with me, he would just kill you. He was scared, hurt. That made him extremely volatile. That’s why I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t. It was Dumbledore’s fault. He knew I wouldn’t be able to abandon people who were in need. He capitalised on that. Right from the moment I was born, Dumbledore knew I would have to sacrifice myself. It makes it so hard to look at his portrait and not yell at him, whenever I have to go there for the memorial. It makes me wonder how he was even able to talk to me, give me the time of day, knowing that I would just vanish,” Harry snapped his fingers. “To him, I was ultimately expendable. But while I was in school, he made me feel happy and wanted… it’s confusing. Makes it seem like it was an act.”

“What was an act?”

“Every time he was nice to me, gave me guidance. It was only to further his own agenda.” Harry muttered.

“I know what that’s like.” Draco scoffed.

“Yeah you would, wouldn’t you?” Harry muttered, but there was no malice there. It was just a statement of fact.

“Both of us had our lives determined before we could even talk.” Draco said, his tone dry.

“I didn’t realise how much control Dumbledore had over my life until I was walking into that forest. In my eyes, that doesn’t make him any better than Voldemort.” Harry slumped in his seat, making it clear that he wasn’t going to say anything further.

“It is very difficult. When you look up to somebody, and they betray that trust. We all know that can be crushing. Because you trust them to take care of you, give you guidance, you place so much into these role models. In doing that you give them some kind of control. You are in their hands. And that can lead to abuse. So my question to end off this session is: who have you placed trust in throughout your lives? How did these people abuse that trust? See you next week, everybody.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has triggers for torture/abuse and misscarriage. This chapter explains what happened after Draco told his father that he couldn't have access to Scorpius anymore. Draco will explain what happened in session anyway in a future chapter, so if you wish you can skip this chapter and not miss anything.

**Chapter Ten**

_Draco sighed and looked at his wife._

_“Whatever you hear, keep Scorpius from coming downstairs, okay?” Astoria was already shaking her head._

_“We need to present a united front to your father, Draco. The more people that tell him what needs to be said, the more likely he will listen. I cannot walk on eggshells around him any longer. Narcissa can stay with him.” Draco looked at his wife, and considered her words. She had that fiery determined look in her eyes. Draco glanced at his mother for guidance, and she returned with an elegant shrug._

_“It couldn’t hurt, my love. I’ll stay up here with Darling Scorpius.” Draco grasped Astoria’s hand tightly and led her downstairs. When they got to the last stair to the ground floor, Lucius was waiting for them both in the foyer._

_“Hello, Son.”_

_“Hello, Father.”_

_“What have you, Astoria, and my lovely wife been plotting?” Lucius demanded, to the point._

_“We’re barring you from seeing Scorpius, Father. Effective immediately.” Draco forced the words out, suddenly realising that he didn’t want to do this He didn’t like the manic look in his father’s eyes, and, knowing in this moment, that he was the cause of it. Lucius took a step closer, and Draco fought every instinct he had to not give ground and push Astoria ahead of him to the relative safety of the upstairs._

_“Oh really? And who made the executive decision on that?” Lucius’ voice slithered along Draco’s spine. Against his better judgement, Draco took a step closer._

_“I did, Father.”_

_“And why is that? Why in the world would my only son do something so… traitorous?”_

_“Father – you’re unwell. Before I’ll allow you to have any further contact with my son, you’re to get help.” At his words, Lucius loosed a bark of a laugh._

_“And where do you suggest I get this ‘help’ from, my son?”_

_“St. Mungo’s, sir.” Astoria spoke from behind him, trying to move his focus. She could see how much this negative attention was affecting Draco._

_“So Astoria, you wish me to subject myself to those foolish healers at that wretched hospital? Not likely. They were not helpful when I was released early from Azkaban-“_

_“They released you early because the Dementors nearly broke your mind before they were banished from the prison, father! You were at St. Mungo’s because you had tried to kill yourself! You. Are. Not. Well. We want you to come to grips with the fact that times have changed. Telling my son stories of the violence that you perpetrated against the other side tells me that you are stuck in the past. It’s been eight years, Father! We are not Death Eaters anymore – Voldemort is gone. Until you realise that and start treating us like your family instead of pawns in some game that only you know the rules to, you will not go near our son!” Lucius blinked slowly at Draco’s outburst, and watched as his son’s chest rose and fell with the intensity of his speech. Lucius glided over to Draco, his robes billowing out behind him, promising violence as he stopped a hair’s breadth from Draco. _

_“I will not stand for this insolence, boy! You will learn obedience! CRUCIO!”_

_“NO!” Draco could have sworn he heard Astoria shout, but he wasn’t sure. He seized as the intense pain burned through his extremities. He screamed as he felt like he was being torn apart. He didn’t know when he ended up on the ground, but suddenly his father was sideways, and there was excruciating pain in his head as he hit the corner of that last step._

_“You, disgusting, evil little man!” Draco watched as if in slow motion; Astoria was bringing her wand up as she spoke, but he knew she wouldn’t make it. He reached an arm out, to try and trip her, so that when Lucius defended himself he would miss, but the pain of the curse he was under intensified, if that were even possible. Draco missed. Suddenly, his pain was gone, but it was his wife who was under the curse, screaming and writhing._

_“Astoria.” Draco rasped. He crawled over to her with the last of his strength and tried to hold her to him. He was screaming, tears were falling down his face. Black spots swam in his vision, he knew he was going to pass out soon. But his father needed to be stopped before that happened, otherwise who knew what Lucius would do. Then Astoria was limp, and his father was propelled across the room. Strong coils shot after him, and bound him up. He looked up the steps, struggling to focus._

_Mother. Mother. Mother. She walked calmly down the steps, toward her husband; tears were brimming her eyes, and her wand hand shook as she drew ever closer aiming the weapon at his father. Draco reached out a hand and grasped his mother’s ankle as she moved past, stopping her as anxiety rippled through him. Draco heard laughter. It was coming from across the room. Draco didn’t want her going anywhere near it._

_“Don’t go near him, Narcissa!” Astoria, regaining consciousness, gasped the words out through her pain. She was crying outwardly, no longer holding onto any sort of composure over herself. She gave an anguished scream through her cries, and Draco’s eyes moved slowly, too slowly, as he turned from his mother to look at her, alarmed at the noise. It seemed too sad, too out of place._

_As if she were mourning. Forcing his eyes to focus, it was only then that he noticed the blood on the floor. When had Astoria hit her head? But wait… the blood wasn’t gathered near her head. It was pooled near her thighs. Astoria started to curl up on the floor, but Draco gathered her against himself, instead._

_“I’m sorry Draco, so sorry. I wasn’t sure, it was too early to make any announcement, and I wanted to wait, to be sure… oh, Merlin.” Astoria loosed another wail and Draco jerked at the sound, much too close to his pounding head._

_“This is not your fault, Astoria. I… this is mine. All my fault. So sorry. Sorry. Oh Merlin I’m so sorry.”_

“Merlin,” Draco struggled to breathe as he woke up from his dream. He managed to roll onto his side and lean over the bed to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He hated reliving that day. He grabbed his wand. “Evanesco.” He muttered, too out of sorts to successfully manage the simple spell silently. The puddle of sick disappeared. He got out of his bed on shaking legs and made his way to the sidebar in his room, where a decanter of Firewhiskey always sat. He poured himself two fingers worth and downed it. He repeated the action three more time before he felt blissfully numbed to the world. He stumbled back into his bed, and didn’t dream for the rest of the night.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

_Kumbaya Experiment,_

_So who did I trust and how did they abuse it? Simple – my father. I placed my trust in my father since I was a child, but did my father give a measly little shit about it when he was offering me up to the Dark Lord? I don’t think so. All my father seemed to care about at the time was getting back into the Dark Lord’s good graces. And if offering me up for not one task, but two, achieved that? Then by Merlin he was going to do it. Even Mother couldn’t stand in his way. She wanted to, I could see that. She told me, after, about the Unbreakable Vow she did with Severus, to protect me. Even when she couldn’t stand up against my father – and, how can you do that, really, when he offers up your home to the Darkest Wizard of all time? I hate going to the Manor now. Even though we’ve completely refurbished all the rooms he was in, I still hate being there. It’s like the darkness clings to everything. _

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

* * *

_Journal,_

_I already spoke about the question in session at length. Dumbledore. He was my mentor, kept me safe, and reminded me that I wasn’t alone. But really, all this time he was making sure I stayed alive just long enough to fulfil a stupid prophecy. I didn’t realise I was still so bitter about it. Well, at least I’ve realised it now and I’m dealing with it._

_HP_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I really hadn’t thought about it before. There was no one I put my trust in that abused it, really. But what I’m thinking about now is how similar Harry’s and Draco’s situations were. How everything was planned out for them. Bit depressing, really. Mum would’ve just been happy if I’d passed my OWL’s. But to have a kind of… legacy to have to live up to? That’s a lot of pressure._

_Until next time,_

_RW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_I don’t know how to answer that question. I think for me, it’s the other way around. My parents didn’t really know much about magic, so they trusted me to tell them about it. I betrayed it by Obliviating them and sending them to Australia, without discussing it with them beforehand. I couldn’t tell them. They wouldn’t want me to do it, but to just leave them while we destroyed the Horcruxes would mean death for them. So I used the magic that I think they were even slightly afraid of, and removed all memories of me. So I was the one that betrayed a trust that my parents had in me._

_HGW_

* * *

Ginny curled up on the window seat and held the recorder to her mouth. Harry was upstairs rustling up the children for bed. Ginny cradled Lily in her other arm.

“I don’t know who I’ve placed my trust in and had it abused. I suppose the diary, from my first year. I told it everything, and it talked back. But then to have it possess me, and make me write things in blood on the stone of Hogwarts? It’s crazy. But now learning about Dumbledore… I don’t think Dumbledore was responsible for all of it. The prophecy, maybe. Definitely Voldemort, for trying to follow through with it. I don’t think Harry believes everything he said, either; I just think Harry has a lot of bottled up resentment about it. I always thought Dumbledore was just a wise weird old man, but now, through Harry, I’ve seen how far he went to make sure that Harry succeeded. And that kind of scares me. I mean, Dumbledore ultimately sacrificed his own life for the cause, sure, but he kept Harry in the dark, and manipulated Snape and Draco to suit his needs. Ultimately to protect Harry, I suppose, and make sure that Harry succeeded, but Harry was basically shouldered with the fate of the wizarding world. And of course, because Dumbledore helped to instill in Harry this… need to save others, help others before himself, of course Harry would make that sacrifice and walk into the Forbidden Forest to face his death. I can’t believe that Harry kept all of this resentment inside for so long. I don’t even think that Harry knew he had all this bottled up. I think Harry needs to have some time with Dumbledore’s portrait to work through his issues. I know the person in the portrait isn’t sentient, but maybe it’ll be better than nothing.” Ginny stopped the recording and looked out the rain-streaked window, not seeing the dreary weather outside.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Draco was sitting in the reception area, having arrived a little early and Laurel wasn’t ready. Hermione walked in, holding a little girl’s hand. Scorpius, who was dozing in Draco’s lap, woke up when she heard the little girl whine.

“Mama, I don’t wanna. Wanna be with gamma and gampa.” She little girl grumbled imperiously. Hermione sighed and sat down, not realising that Draco and Scorpius were there.

“Grandma and Grandpa are away visiting Charlie. Remember the dragons we saw a few months ago?”

“Dwagons!”

“That’s where Grandma and Grandpa are. They’ll be back on Monday. What day is today?”

“Friday.”

“Good. So how many days? Show me with your fingers.” Rose held up three fingers.

“Thwee!”

“Lovely job. Oh. Hello, Draco.” Hermione’s cheeks reddened when she realised that she wasn’t alone in the reception area.

“Hello Hermione.” Scorpius was squirming to get out of his arms and lap, and Draco loosened his grip so he could slide down. He waddled over to Hermione and Rose.

“I Scor-pi-us. You?” The little girl looked to her mother, who nodded.

“It’s okay, sweetie.”

“I Rose.”

“Listen, Hermione… thank you for… you know, last week.”

“Of course. Like I said, we’re here to help one another. Speaking of which, you look like death warmed over.”

“Thanks for that. You don’t look too peachy yourself.” Hermione shrugged.

“Just tired, is all.” Draco pinned her with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you sure that’s all? You remind me of when Astoria was-”

“Hey you two – is Laurel not ready yet?” Harry, Ginny, and Lily walked into the reception area.

“No. Where are James and Albus?” Hermione asked.

“With Andromeda and Teddy. Where’s Ron?”

“Running a bit late. Had to do something at the shop first.”

“Are you alright, ‘Mione?”

“I am fine! Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Hermione put her head in her hands, shaking off Harry’s comforting hand on her shoulder. Laurel popped her head into the reception area.

“Everyone? It’s time to get started.” Hermione stood, grasped Rose’s arm and walked into the room.

“Muhmeee, why so fast?” Harry, Ginny, and Draco could hear as the mother and daughter rounded the corner.

“What is up with her?” Ginny asked.

“No idea.” Harry replied. They made their way inside and moved to sit down, but realised that the seats were in a different formation.

“We’re going to try something new. It’s called Hot Seating.” There were two chairs in the centre of the room, and the other chairs, including Laurel’s, were ranged around it.

“How does it work?” Hermione asked as she let Rose down to wander over to the play area. Draco did the same with Scorpius.

“Two people are going to sit in the centre, and I am going to give you an event that happened to both of you, or a feeling that you both shared. While I may have your school records, I obviously don’t know everything, so please provide a little bit of context. Then, you are going to describe how the _other person_ might have felt at the time. Do that first and then we can switch the focus back around to yourselves. Understand?” When she saw nodding all around, she smiled.

“Who’s first? Sorry I’m late” Ron said, rushing inside.

“You and Harry, please.” Harry and Ron sat in the hot seats, and the rest sat in the chairs around them.

“Apart from when you were on the run, when was your friendship the most strained and why?”

“The Triwizard Tournament.” They said at the same time. Harry looked at Hermione for a moment before adding another answer.

“Also when Ron was dating Lavender Brown.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of that, Harry! It was _not_ one of my best moments.”

“Okay, let’s focus on that first, then move to the Triwizard Tournament. Harry, you start.”

“Okay, um… I think for Ron it was a bit of a high, for him. He did really well in the Quidditch match, and it just kind of snowballed from there. He was happy, to finally have y’know… the recognition of something that was him. Something he’d done. I think he was caught up in the good feelings surrounding that, and Lavender… she wasn’t bad looking. She was nice. She got, um, a bit clingy-”

“A bit? _A bit?_ ”

“Okay, a lot clingy. And then Ron didn’t want to be around her.”

“And then we broke up, apparently, though I don’t remember what I said.”

“You said my name, Ronald.”

“What?” Ron looked at his wife, who was wearing a small smile as she remembered.

“When Lavender came in to see you, we kind of got into an argument as to who had more of a right to be there. But then you said my name in your sleep. Lavender ran out.”

“Hermione! Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because at the time I was still kind of angry at you for being with that clingy bint in the first place! Merlin’s beard, I shouldn’t have said that. She’s dead; it’s a horrible thing to say.” Hermione hid her face with her hands. Ginny, who was sitting beside her, rubbed her back.

“She was that, you know. It’s true. But she fought bravely during the war. That counts.” Ginny murmured.

“Yeah. It does.” Hermione agreed.

“Ron. How do you think Harry felt at the time?” Laurel brought them back on task with the question.

“Torn, I suppose? I was a bloody idiot then, and didn’t realise what could have been… but Harry, you knew, didn’t you?”

“I did, yeah.”

“So he wanted to support Hermione, but he also wanted us all to be around each other and be friends again. It’s not the same when we’re apart, and for Harry, in terms of best friends, we’re kind of it, so I bet it makes Harry a bit anxious and not the happiest bloke.”

“Got it in one, mate.”

“Now, the Triwizard?” Laurel nudged.

“I’ll start, since I’m on a roll,” Ron nudged Harry. “Harry was frightened, because he didn’t put his name in the cup and it chose him anyway. He was frustrated with me for not believing him – I was being a right tosser, then. He felt alone, because everyone thought he somehow broke the rules and he’s Harry Potter, you know? He’s not going to get into trouble for it, and now he gets even more attention – which he didn’t want in the first place.”

“Ron was jealous that I didn’t tell him how I did it. That I was going to get more notoriety and prove myself in these tasks, and he wouldn’t have the chance to do that. He was angry because he thought I was lying to him about not putting my name in.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, mate.”

“Water under the bridge now. It only lasted until after the first task, anyway, when you realised how barmy it was.” Harry laughed.

“Good work, you two! Draco, please take Ron’s place,” Ron and Draco switched places. When they were seated, Laurel spoke. “The Astronomy Tower.”

“Bugger.” Harry muttered.

“There’s an issue, there. Harry wasn’t there.”

“I was, Draco.”

‘What?”

“I testified at your hearing, Draco! Do you not remember?”

“I knew you were there… my mind was really not with the proceedings. It was more with the fact that I was absolutely sure I would be going to Azkaban.”

“Okay, I see what you mean by context, Laurel. Um… Dumbledore and I left the school to get one of the Horcruxes. It left Dumbledore really weak. Madam Rosemerta told us about the Dark Mark in Hogsmeade and we flew to the Astronomy Tower. Then you were there. Dumbledore put a Body-Bind on me – I was wearing my Invisibility Cloak, so you couldn’t see me.”

“Oh.” Draco didn’t have anything more to say to that.

“Harry, why don’t you start?” Laurel suggested. Harry nodded.

“Alright. Okay. Um… you looked tired. Not just stayed up late tired, but extremely exhausted. Which makes sense, considering all the time you were spending on the Vanishing Cabinet. You were scared, confused. You didn’t really have any choices. It was kill Dumbledore, because that was the task you’d been given to do, and defiance meant death. Or if you failed for any reason, you would be killed for the failure, and so would your mum and dad. Not many choices at all. You knew what you _had_ to do, but you didn’t know if that was what you _should_ do. You’re not a killer, Draco. I saw that second of relief on your face when Snape arrived and pushed you aside. You felt guilty. You’d hurt people. Not intentionally, of course. But Katie Bell… and Ron.”

“What did Ronald have to do with my botched attempts to kill Dumbedore?”

“The poisoned mead that you gave Slughorn? He gave some of it to Ron and I – that’s a story for another time – but Ron drank it first. If I hadn’t forced him to swallow a bezoar, he would’ve died.” If possible, Draco looked even paler than usual. He avoided looking at anyone.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why don’t you give Harry’s perspective of that night in the Astronomy Tower a go, Draco.”

“Oh, yeah, alright. Well Harry was always Dumbledore’s favourite. They were rather close. So seeing Dumbledore weak from whatever it took to get that Horcrux must have had Harry worried. Seeing the Dark Mark above the school must have made him scared, and angry that we – they – invaded his home. He must have gotten even angrier to see my Aunt, who killed his Godfather. Then even more so to see Snape kill Dumbledore. It was a betrayal, to Harry. No wonder he chased after us, even though it was idiotic to do so yourself.” Draco shot the last words at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“They wouldn’t have killed me. Voldemort needed to kill me himself. So I didn’t care. All that mattered at the time was making Snape hurt.” Harry shrugged.

“One last thing – anger at Dumbledore for leaving you on your own. From what you’ve told us, you depended on him. He was a role model for you. For that to be gone, so suddenly… that’s sad.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Ginny and Harry – I’ll switch you out next one, Harry.”

“No problem.” Harry said as he smiled at his wife. Ginny smiled back as she sat beside him. They held hands, perhaps a little too tightly due to nerves.

“When Harry left to die without telling anyone.” Laurel said. Both Harry and Ginny inhaled deeply with the suddenness of the emotions they both felt.

“Oh Merlin… okay.” Ginny tried to get herself to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue, but found that she couldn’t. Harry used the hand that wasn’t gripped in hers to rub her knee.

“Gin, it’s okay, I can go first.” Harry looked at Ginny as she shook her head.

“No, no I have to go first because if you go I’m going to cry and then I won’t be able to talk.” Ginny took in a deep breath, and when she let it out it shuddered out of her.

“Okay. Uh… you felt scared, because you were going to face Voldemort on-on your own. You were feeling protective of us, as always. You didn’t want us with you because you wouldn’t want to see us killed, or-or tortured. You were in shock because you found out that you were a Horcrux. Confused and betrayed because why didn’t Dumbledore tell you all of this. Sorry that you couldn’t – wouldn’t – say goodbye, when you knew you weren’t coming back – oh Merlin I’m so glad you came back.” Ginny couldn’t keep talking, and hid her face in Harry’s shoulder, his arms immediately going around her and their youngest child. Lily started to whimper, picking up on her parents’ distress. Harry was rubbing soothing circles on Ginny’s back, ignoring the wetness on his neck from her hidden tears. Ginny hated, _hated_ , to cry. Especially in front of other people.

“Gin. You were angry. At all of us. For keeping you back from the fight at first, saying you were too young – we just wanted to protect you. You were worried, when Voldemort gave us time to collect our dead. You had so many of your family members out there fighting. You were sad because your worst fears were realised when you saw Fred amongst the dead. You were worried _again_ because Ron and Hermione were there, and I wasn’t and they didn’t know where I was. Which, considering we spent nearly every moment together, couldn’t mean anything good. You were… anguished when Voldemort announced my death. I heard you scream and I wanted to jump up right then to tell you I was okay, but I was only going to get one chance and the snake was still alive. But it wasn’t just anguish at my death, it was also anguish at the fact that my death meant that Voldemort would prevail, and have control over you all. He would destroy everything. And I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye but you’re right, I couldn’t. If I had to look you in the eyes and tell you I was leaving to go meet my death with open arms, I wouldn’t want to go, and leave the only family I’d ever had. I am so sorry.” He whispered against Ginny’s face.

“Ginny, Harry. Why don’t you switch places with Hermione and Draco.” Both pairs stood up, but when Harry and Ginny sat down together and Draco sat down, waiting expectantly for her, Hermione froze. Her eyes went glassy and her hand twitched toward her scarred arm.

“No. No, I can’t.” Hermione had her eyes closed and she was shaking her head. Ron stood, looking at her uncertainly.

“’Mione? You’re safe, here. You know that, right?” He stepped forward, but Hermione took a step back. Draco watched the couple curiously.

“I do know that, Ronald, but – I – I’m sorry, I can’t talk about what you want me to right now, I can’t.” Hermione turned tail and ran. Ron moved to go after her but Draco surprised everyone by standing up, himself.

“I think I need to do this.” Draco said. Ron gave him an incredulous look.

“Have you lost your bloody mind? You’re part of the reason she won’t talk about this!”

“I think that’s exactly why I need to be the one to talk to her.” Draco was already turning around and following in Hermione’s footsteps, out the door before Ron could utter anything else. Draco walked toward the door that would take him upstairs, to the rooftop garden that he knew existed on the top floor. Sure enough, when he opened the door, he saw Hermione sitting by the small pond in the middle of the roof. He walked over to her and sat down, placing the water of the pond between them.

“Please don’t make me talk about it.” Hermione’s voice floated over the water to him. Draco gave her a confused look.

“Why would I do that? If you’re not ready to talk about what happened at the Manor, or even what happened at school, then you’re not ready. Just like I’m not ready to talk about my – Lucius and his reaction to not being allowed around Scorpius.”

“You’re not like I thought you’d be, after ten years.” Hermione mumbled. Draco gave a laugh.

“What? Did you think I’d still be an arrogant, pureblooded tosser? And they say you’re the brightest witch of our age.” Draco’s signature sneer was back, but with no real malice behind it.

“Why did you follow me up here?” Hermione wiped her eyes and lifted them to meet his.

“Because I’m part of the reason you feel this way. I caused some of what you’re feeling. The Dar – Voldemort and my _lovely_ Aunt caused the rest of it. Along with every other Slytherin who was a right git, which unfortunately meant the majority of us. I came up here to give you my apologies for whatever part I played in what you’re feeling. Calling you that wretched name all throughout school. Making fun of you.” Draco took a deep breath, hardly believing he was having this conversation right now. Hermione startled at his words, not expecting an apology.

“Draco –”

“I was jealous. You were muggleborn, had no prior experience with magic, and you could do advanced spells like the Protean Charm at the age of fifteen, and brew potions that even I struggled making with ease. With the only knowledge prior to Hogwarts being what Lucius taught me, I couldn’t understand at the time how you could be so much _better_. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour, but I didn’t know any other way to express my jealousy other than insulting you. It’s very Slytherin to try and take down those that are stronger than us down a few pegs so you could see their real strength and smarts – in a way I suppose I was complimenting you. I had no idea how badly it actually made you feel until I saw your face, when Aunt Bella was carving into your arm. You were horrified. And I did nothing, I just stood there while-”

“Draco. I never expected you to do anything. We were kids, and if you’d intervened, you would have been killed. Just you saying sorry and being truthful is more than I would have expected. If someone had come up to me ten years ago, or even a year ago, and told me this would happen? I would’ve laughed in their faces and said this was impossible.”

“It is quite mad, isn’t it?” Draco started laughing and was soon letting loose big belly laughs as he lay on the pavement. Hermione, unable to sit and be serious while Draco Malfoy of all people was laughing like a lunatic, joined him in laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks in a kind of catharsis. She was the first to subside, sighing out a breath and wiping her eyes dry. Draco sat up, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair and got to his feet. He walked around the small pond and offered a hand to Hermione. Hermione looked up at him; her eyes still red and bloodshot, her face wan and tired, and considered. Then she reached a hand out and grasped his. He easily pulled her to her feet.

“Come on, Granger. Let’s go back downstairs.” He walked a few paces ahead of her, but when he realised that she wasn’t beside or behind him, he stopped. She was twisting her hands together in anxiety.

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Draco was sitting in the reception area, having arrived a little early and Laurel wasn’t ready. Hermione walked in, holding a little girl’s hand. Scorpius, who was dozing in Draco’s lap, woke up when she heard the little girl whine.

“Mama, I don’t wanna. Wanna be with gamma and gampa.” She little girl grumbled imperiously. Hermione sighed and sat down, not realising that Draco and Scorpius were there.

“Grandma and Grandpa are away visiting Charlie. Remember the dragons we saw a few months ago?”

“Dwagons!”

“That’s where Grandma and Grandpa are. They’ll be back on Monday. What day is today?”

“Friday.”

“Good. So how many days? Show me with your fingers.” Rose held up three fingers.

“Thwee!”

“Lovely job. Oh. Hello, Draco.” Hermione’s cheeks reddened when she realised that she wasn’t alone in the reception area.

“Hello Hermione.” Scorpius was squirming to get out of his arms and lap, and Draco loosened his grip so he could slide down. He waddled over to Hermione and Rose.

“I Scor-pi-us. You?” The little girl looked to her mother, who nodded.

“It’s okay, sweetie.”

“I Rose.”

“Listen, Hermione… thank you for… you know, last week.”

“Of course. Like I said, we’re here to help one another. Speaking of which, you look like death warmed over.”

“Thanks for that. You don’t look too peachy yourself.” Hermione shrugged.

“Just tired, is all.” Draco pinned her with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you sure that’s all? You remind me of when Astoria was-”

“Hey you two – is Laurel not ready yet?” Harry, Ginny, and Lily walked into the reception area.

“No. Where are James and Albus?” Hermione asked.

“With Andromeda and Teddy. Where’s Ron?”

“Running a bit late. Had to do something at the shop first.”

“Are you alright, ‘Mione?”

“I am fine! Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Hermione put her head in her hands, shaking off Harry’s comforting hand on her shoulder. Laurel popped her head into the reception area.

“Everyone? It’s time to get started.” Hermione stood, grasped Rose’s arm and walked into the room.

“Muhmeee, why so fast?” Harry, Ginny, and Draco could hear as the mother and daughter rounded the corner.

“What is up with her?” Ginny asked.

“No idea.” Harry replied. They made their way inside and moved to sit down, but realised that the seats were in a different formation.

“We’re going to try something new. It’s called Hot Seating.” There were two chairs in the centre of the room, and the other chairs, including Laurel’s, were ranged around it.

“How does it work?” Hermione asked as she let Rose down to wander over to the play area. Draco did the same with Scorpius.

“Two people are going to sit in the centre, and I am going to give you an event that happened to both of you, or a feeling that you both shared. While I may have your school records, I obviously don’t know everything, so please provide a little bit of context. Then, you are going to describe how the _other person_ might have felt at the time. Do that first and then we can switch the focus back around to yourselves. Understand?” When she saw nodding all around, she smiled.

“Who’s first? Sorry I’m late” Ron said, rushing inside.

“You and Harry, please.” Harry and Ron sat in the hot seats, and the rest sat in the chairs around them.

“Apart from when you were on the run, when was your friendship the most strained and why?”

“The Triwizard Tournament.” They said at the same time. Harry looked at Hermione for a moment before adding another answer.

“Also when Ron was dating Lavender Brown.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of that, Harry! It was _not_ one of my best moments.”

“Okay, let’s focus on that first, then move to the Triwizard Tournament. Harry, you start.”

“Okay, um… I think for Ron it was a bit of a high, for him. He did really well in the Quidditch match, and it just kind of snowballed from there. He was happy, to finally have y’know… the recognition of something that was him. Something he’d done. I think he was caught up in the good feelings surrounding that, and Lavender… she wasn’t bad looking. She was nice. She got, um, a bit clingy-”

“A bit? _A bit?_ ”

“Okay, a lot clingy. And then Ron didn’t want to be around her.”

“And then we broke up, apparently, though I don’t remember what I said.”

“You said my name, Ronald.”

“What?” Ron looked at his wife, who was wearing a small smile as she remembered.

“When Lavender came in to see you, we kind of got into an argument as to who had more of a right to be there. But then you said my name in your sleep. Lavender ran out.”

“Hermione! Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because at the time I was still kind of angry at you for being with that clingy bint in the first place! Merlin’s beard, I shouldn’t have said that. She’s dead; it’s a horrible thing to say.” Hermione hid her face with her hands. Ginny, who was sitting beside her, rubbed her back.

“She was that, you know. It’s true. But she fought bravely during the war. That counts.” Ginny murmured.

“Yeah. It does.” Hermione agreed.

“Ron. How do you think Harry felt at the time?” Laurel brought them back on task with the question.

“Torn, I suppose? I was a bloody idiot then, and didn’t realise what could have been… but Harry, you knew, didn’t you?”

“I did, yeah.”

“So he wanted to support Hermione, but he also wanted us all to be around each other and be friends again. It’s not the same when we’re apart, and for Harry, in terms of best friends, we’re kind of it, so I bet it makes Harry a bit anxious and not the happiest bloke.”

“Got it in one, mate.”

“Now, the Triwizard?” Laurel nudged.

“I’ll start, since I’m on a roll,” Ron nudged Harry. “Harry was frightened, because he didn’t put his name in the cup and it chose him anyway. He was frustrated with me for not believing him – I was being a right tosser, then. He felt alone, because everyone thought he somehow broke the rules and he’s Harry Potter, you know? He’s not going to get into trouble for it, and now he gets even more attention – which he didn’t want in the first place.”

“Ron was jealous that I didn’t tell him how I did it. That I was going to get more notoriety and prove myself in these tasks, and he wouldn’t have the chance to do that. He was angry because he thought I was lying to him about not putting my name in.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, mate.”

“Water under the bridge now. It only lasted until after the first task, anyway, when you realised how barmy it was.” Harry laughed.

“Good work, you two! Draco, please take Ron’s place,” Ron and Draco switched places. When they were seated, Laurel spoke. “The Astronomy Tower.”

“Bugger.” Harry muttered.

“There’s an issue, there. Harry wasn’t there.”

“I was, Draco.”

‘What?”

“I testified at your hearing, Draco! Do you not remember?”

“I knew you were there… my mind was really not with the proceedings. It was more with the fact that I was absolutely sure I would be going to Azkaban.”

“Okay, I see what you mean by context, Laurel. Um… Dumbledore and I left the school to get one of the Horcruxes. It left Dumbledore really weak. Madam Rosemerta told us about the Dark Mark in Hogsmeade and we flew to the Astronomy Tower. Then you were there. Dumbledore put a Body-Bind on me – I was wearing my Invisibility Cloak, so you couldn’t see me.”

“Oh.” Draco didn’t have anything more to say to that.

“Harry, why don’t you start?” Laurel suggested. Harry nodded.

“Alright. Okay. Um… you looked tired. Not just stayed up late tired, but extremely exhausted. Which makes sense, considering all the time you were spending on the Vanishing Cabinet. You were scared, confused. You didn’t really have any choices. It was kill Dumbledore, because that was the task you’d been given to do, and defiance meant death. Or if you failed for any reason, you would be killed for the failure, and so would your mum and dad. Not many choices at all. You knew what you _had_ to do, but you didn’t know if that was what you _should_ do. You’re not a killer, Draco. I saw that second of relief on your face when Snape arrived and pushed you aside. You felt guilty. You’d hurt people. Not intentionally, of course. But Katie Bell… and Ron.”

“What did Ronald have to do with my botched attempts to kill Dumbedore?”

“The poisoned mead that you gave Slughorn? He gave some of it to Ron and I – that’s a story for another time – but Ron drank it first. If I hadn’t forced him to swallow a bezoar, he would’ve died.” If possible, Draco looked even paler than usual. He avoided looking at anyone.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why don’t you give Harry’s perspective of that night in the Astronomy Tower a go, Draco.”

“Oh, yeah, alright. Well Harry was always Dumbledore’s favourite. They were rather close. So seeing Dumbledore weak from whatever it took to get that Horcrux must have had Harry worried. Seeing the Dark Mark above the school must have made him scared, and angry that we – they – invaded his home. He must have gotten even angrier to see my Aunt, who killed his Godfather. Then even more so to see Snape kill Dumbledore. It was a betrayal, to Harry. No wonder he chased after us, even though it was idiotic to do so yourself.” Draco shot the last words at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“They wouldn’t have killed me. Voldemort needed to kill me himself. So I didn’t care. All that mattered at the time was making Snape hurt.” Harry shrugged.

“One last thing – anger at Dumbledore for leaving you on your own. From what you’ve told us, you depended on him. He was a role model for you. For that to be gone, so suddenly… that’s sad.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Ginny and Harry – I’ll switch you out next one, Harry.”

“No problem.” Harry said as he smiled at his wife. Ginny smiled back as she sat beside him. They held hands, perhaps a little too tightly due to nerves.

“When Harry left to die without telling anyone.” Laurel said. Both Harry and Ginny inhaled deeply with the suddenness of the emotions they both felt.

“Oh Merlin… okay.” Ginny tried to get herself to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue, but found that she couldn’t. Harry used the hand that wasn’t gripped in hers to rub her knee.

“Gin, it’s okay, I can go first.” Harry looked at Ginny as she shook her head.

“No, no I have to go first because if you go I’m going to cry and then I won’t be able to talk.” Ginny took in a deep breath, and when she let it out it shuddered out of her.

“Okay. Uh… you felt scared, because you were going to face Voldemort on-on your own. You were feeling protective of us, as always. You didn’t want us with you because you wouldn’t want to see us killed, or-or tortured. You were in shock because you found out that you were a Horcrux. Confused and betrayed because why didn’t Dumbledore tell you all of this. Sorry that you couldn’t – wouldn’t – say goodbye, when you knew you weren’t coming back – oh Merlin I’m so glad you came back.” Ginny couldn’t keep talking, and hid her face in Harry’s shoulder, his arms immediately going around her and their youngest child. Lily started to whimper, picking up on her parents’ distress. Harry was rubbing soothing circles on Ginny’s back, ignoring the wetness on his neck from her hidden tears. Ginny hated, _hated_ , to cry. Especially in front of other people.

“Gin. You were angry. At all of us. For keeping you back from the fight at first, saying you were too young – we just wanted to protect you. You were worried, when Voldemort gave us time to collect our dead. You had so many of your family members out there fighting. You were sad because your worst fears were realised when you saw Fred amongst the dead. You were worried _again_ because Ron and Hermione were there, and I wasn’t and they didn’t know where I was. Which, considering we spent nearly every moment together, couldn’t mean anything good. You were… anguished when Voldemort announced my death. I heard you scream and I wanted to jump up right then to tell you I was okay, but I was only going to get one chance and the snake was still alive. But it wasn’t just anguish at my death, it was also anguish at the fact that my death meant that Voldemort would prevail, and have control over you all. He would destroy everything. And I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye but you’re right, I couldn’t. If I had to look you in the eyes and tell you I was leaving to go meet my death with open arms, I wouldn’t want to go, and leave the only family I’d ever had. I am so sorry.” He whispered against Ginny’s face.

“Ginny, Harry. Why don’t you switch places with Hermione and Draco.” Both pairs stood up, but when Harry and Ginny sat down together and Draco sat down, waiting expectantly for her, Hermione froze. Her eyes went glassy and her hand twitched toward her scarred arm.

“No. No, I can’t.” Hermione had her eyes closed and she was shaking her head. Ron stood, looking at her uncertainly.

“’Mione? You’re safe, here. You know that, right?” He stepped forward, but Hermione took a step back. Draco watched the couple curiously.

“I do know that, Ronald, but – I – I’m sorry, I can’t talk about what you want me to right now, I can’t.” Hermione turned tail and ran. Ron moved to go after her but Draco surprised everyone by standing up, himself.

“I think I need to do this.” Draco said. Ron gave him an incredulous look.

“Have you lost your bloody mind? You’re part of the reason she won’t talk about this!”

“I think that’s exactly why I need to be the one to talk to her.” Draco was already turning around and following in Hermione’s footsteps, out the door before Ron could utter anything else. Draco walked toward the door that would take him upstairs, to the rooftop garden that he knew existed on the top floor. Sure enough, when he opened the door, he saw Hermione sitting by the small pond in the middle of the roof. He walked over to her and sat down, placing the water of the pond between them.

“Please don’t make me talk about it.” Hermione’s voice floated over the water to him. Draco gave her a confused look.

“Why would I do that? If you’re not ready to talk about what happened at the Manor, or even what happened at school, then you’re not ready. Just like I’m not ready to talk about my – Lucius and his reaction to not being allowed around Scorpius.”

“You’re not like I thought you’d be, after ten years.” Hermione mumbled. Draco gave a laugh.

“What? Did you think I’d still be an arrogant, pureblooded tosser? And they say you’re the brightest witch of our age.” Draco’s signature sneer was back, but with no real malice behind it.

“Why did you follow me up here?” Hermione wiped her eyes and lifted them to meet his.

“Because I’m part of the reason you feel this way. I caused some of what you’re feeling. The Dar – Voldemort and my _lovely_ Aunt caused the rest of it. Along with every other Slytherin who was a right git, which unfortunately meant the majority of us. I came up here to give you my apologies for whatever part I played in what you’re feeling. Calling you that wretched name all throughout school. Making fun of you.” Draco took a deep breath, hardly believing he was having this conversation right now. Hermione startled at his words, not expecting an apology.

“Draco –”

“I was jealous. You were muggleborn, had no prior experience with magic, and you could do advanced spells like the Protean Charm at the age of fifteen, and brew potions that even I struggled making with ease. With the only knowledge prior to Hogwarts being what Lucius taught me, I couldn’t understand at the time how you could be so much _better_. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour, but I didn’t know any other way to express my jealousy other than insulting you. It’s very Slytherin to try and take down those that are stronger than us down a few pegs so you could see their real strength and smarts – in a way I suppose I was complimenting you. I had no idea how badly it actually made you feel until I saw your face, when Aunt Bella was carving into your arm. You were horrified. And I did nothing, I just stood there while-”

“Draco. I never expected you to do anything. We were kids, and if you’d intervened, you would have been killed. Just you saying sorry and being truthful is more than I would have expected. If someone had come up to me ten years ago, or even a year ago, and told me this would happen? I would’ve laughed in their faces and said this was impossible.”

“It is quite mad, isn’t it?” Draco started laughing and was soon letting loose big belly laughs as he lay on the pavement. Hermione, unable to sit and be serious while Draco Malfoy of all people was laughing like a lunatic, joined him in laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks in a kind of catharsis. She was the first to subside, sighing out a breath and wiping her eyes dry. Draco sat up, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair and got to his feet. He walked around the small pond and offered a hand to Hermione. Hermione looked up at him; her eyes still red and bloodshot, her face wan and tired, and considered. Then she reached a hand out and grasped his. He easily pulled her to her feet.

“Come on, Granger. Let’s go back downstairs.” He walked a few paces ahead of her, but when he realised that she wasn’t beside or behind him, he stopped. She was twisting her hands together in anxiety.

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Journal,_

_I think I’m stuck. Not how Ronald is stuck, in the past and hating everything and everyone that hurt him or everyone else back then. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Voldemort to come back. Or something equally as bad. Life is great, right now. I’ve got Rose, and Ron… and I’m four months pregnant. I couldn’t be happier. I’m helping the world to be a better place for magical creatures and stigmatised individuals like the werewolves. But life seems to be working out way too well, and I can’t help but be paranoid. What is going to happen to ruin what we have?_

_He might not know it, but Draco really helped. I was not expecting an apology at all from him; he’s challenged my assumptions from the start of this experiment, and I’m glad. He’s a good father to his son, and he’s making efforts with us that I thought he would never attempt. At the moment, he’s much braver than I am._

_HGW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_Talking about leaving Ginny and everyone else was so hard. I’ve never felt so sorry in my whole life. She was crying so much. She hardly ever cries. So you know when she cries, it’s bad. Leaving her was so, so, hard. Feeling her shaking in my arms, her tears sliding down my neck, ten years after the fact, is even harder. Because it means somewhere, deep down, that she hasn’t really forgiven me for it. That it’s still affecting her now. It’s causing her so much pain… I don’t know what to do._

_HP_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I finally get why Harry and Hermione were avoiding me while I was dating Lavender. It all makes sense now. At first I was all like “I’m happy, why aren’t they?” But now I really get it. And I feel awful. If I’d gotten my head out of my arse long enough I would have realised so much sooner about my feelings for Hermione. And her feelings for me. I mean, we’re together now, but all that drama wouldn’t have happened. It was all unnecessary. I visit Lavender’s grave sometimes. Leave flowers. I don’t think Hermione knows that I do that. Lavender might have been rather clingy, but she was just happy; when she was happy, she was clingy. That’s it. Thinking back, now that she’s gone, I was happy to be a contributing factor to her happiness for a time._

_Until next time,_

_RW_

* * *

Ginny stood in front of Harry’s house, the one his parents had died in, and stared at the damage that had never been repaired.

“Harry has gone through so much in his life. Losing his parents… losing Cedric… losing Dumbledore. Then realising that he had to willingly die to save everybody else. It’s just so unfair to him. He was just a kid. But I am happy we were able to talk things through. We understand each other even better than I thought we did. It’s made us stronger. And it helps, to see how sorry he was about leaving, I mean, I knew at the time that he was sorry, but to still see that remorse, years later. It really does help. This will help in coming to terms with that night.”

* * *

_Kumbaya Experiment,_

_I didn’t expect to feel guilty. I realise that sounds cold. At school, I never really thought about how… potentially damaging my actions had been. I also never thought I would be seeing any of them again. I had no reason to think about them anymore, unless I saw them in the paper, which actually wasn’t as often as I thought I would. But seeing Granger looking so bloody terrified at the prospect of just talking about what happened at the Manor, or in school – it struck me. The guilt did. I’m part of the reason she’s afraid to talk about it, I think. I have my own fair share of guilt where she’s concerned, too. I never meant to hurt her, really. When I was a kid, it was just fun to poke fun at her. She was so easily riled up. Then at the Manor… when Aunt Bella was carving those words into her arm… it was just a reaffirmation of what I’d been taunting her with since she was eleven, wasn’t it? I am a horrible person. I wish I had never learned that word._

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**  

“Hey Harry.” Hermione met him at the gated entrance to Godric’s Hollow. He grasped her hand and pulled her through, the gates dissolving as she passed the boundary. When Hermione was through and looked behind her, the gate was solid again.

“That never gets old.” Hermione smiled as Harry tucked her arm around his own and led her through the small town.

“It’s a fascination to the kids, too.” Harry smirked.

“Harry James Potter, are you calling me a child?” She punched his arm and he laughed.

“No, no, I take it all back!” He yelled as she punched him again. They walked into the café, called _The Sleeping Snitch_ , and settled in the nook in the corner. The café owner herself came over and delivered their orders, knowing what they usually had.

“So…”

“Why’d you call to meet up, ‘Mione?”

“I just wanted to talk something through with you. I think you’re the only one that will get it.”

“Alright. Shoot.”

“I think I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the war ended.”

“What do you mean?’ He nursed his Butterbeer, looking at her contemplatively over the tankard of sweet drink.

“Life’s great, really good right now, actually. And at Hogwarts, when things were good, that always got ruined by some plot or another, you know? I think I’m just paranoid that it’s going to get… ruined, somehow.”

“I was like that right after the war. I didn’t quite believe it was over, really. Didn’t for a few years. I thought there was going to be a powerful uprising of Death Eaters or rogue werewolves or _something_ that I would be needed for. I hated the notoriety, but suddenly not being needed to save the wizarding world was… disconcerting, I suppose.”

“Exactly! I always feel on high alert. I can’t believe that life is now… this, and not fighting. I don’t want to mess that up by talking about the past, Harry.”

“You need to talk about it, ‘Mione. I love you, but holding this in is not healthy for you. Or for Ron. It’s stressing you out, and he’s stressed out because you’re stressed out. Let us help you. Let us be there for you. Please.” Harry shrugged, not knowing how else to describe it.

“I know. Thank you. Draco came after me at the session.”

“Yeah, we know. What did he say?”

“He apologised. Surprisingly.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s grown up. Maybe more so than any of us. He’s determined to be a good father to his kid, because the way Lucius raised Draco was so damaging. My question is where the hell is his wife? She should be here – we brought in our spouses, which was the point, really. So why is Astoria allowed to be absent?”

“She must have had a good reason?” Hermione pondered. Harry was shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t be able to relive and talk about my worst memories without Ginny right there with me. Yes, it’s harder, much harder. But it’s helping, you know? When I’m having a bad because I’m brooding over something that happened in session, she’s able to help me because she was _there_.”

“Harry, what are you on about? What are you going to do?” Harry took out a sealed letter and waved it in front of her.

“I’m going to see if I can find Astoria. Send her this. Tell her than she was wrong to exempt herself from the experiment because Draco needs her support. Have you seen him lately? He looks like an Inferi. Merlin’s beard, the man does not look healthy. Having his wife’s support might help.”

“Don’t meddle, Harry! We don’t know what’s going on between them. Maybe they’ve unofficially separated – we don’t know.”

“I’m still sending it, Hermione.” Harry’s expression was determined; Hermione knew that she wouldn’t be able to sway him off of this mission of his.

“Alright. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face, Harry Potter.” Hermione smirked.

* * *

Draco sat in the Three Broomsticks with Blaise when Pansy rushed in.

"Sorry I'm late! I was visiting my mother and lost track of time." She said airily, reaching for the menu even though she knew it by heart. She looked at the two men over the top of the menu.

"Not a problem, Pans."

"We were waiting with baited breath for you to arrive." Draco said, his tone dry. Pansy pinned Draco with a glare.

"How's therapy, Draco?" Pansy simpered, get tone intending to get a rise out of Draco.

"Going well, actually." Draco said calmly, refusing to give Pansy the satisfaction of hearing him complain about it.

“What’s the most surprising thing about it?” Blaise asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. There was no response from Draco for a while; it was clear he was thinking of what to say.

“I’m surprised that it’s even working, to be honest.”

“Of course it’s working. You look like shite, mate.”

“Just what I wanted to hear, Blaise. I can just see the headline in _The Prophet_ now: Is Draco Malfoy Getting Too Old? Prophet Looks Into His Life To Determine Cause of Dwindling Looks. Not bloody likely.” Draco laughed.

“What else?” Pansy asked, ready for the latest gossip.

“We’ve all had issues from the War that we’d thought we’d gotten over, but hadn’t. They’re not as perfect as you might think, but they’re… good for each other. Supportive. No wonder they were friends in school.” Draco considered.

“Oh, come on, Draco!” Pansy pouted. Draco shook his head.

“That’s all you get, gossip monger.”

“But why? You owe them nothing.”

“Well, actually, their testimonies kept me out of Azkaban. I read over the transcript of the trial again, because I realise I kind of forgot what was really said. Without them, I’d be in Azkaban. So, I do owe them.”

“Where’s Astoria, mate?” Blaise wondered, noticing his wife’s absence over the last few weeks.

“Bloody Hell if I know. Somewhere in France for work, I’d imagine. This whole therapy business has probably scared her off. She’ll come back when she’s ready.” Draco shrugged and sipped at his drink.

“You haven’ spoken to her? At all?” Blaise asked, incredulous. Draco gave him a confused look.

“”No. Why would I? She’ll come back when she’s ready. Why should I call her home sooner?”

“Scorpius, for one.” Pansy spoke up this time.

“Scorpius hasn’t asked after her. If he does, I’ll floo her. You know our relationship hasn’t been the same since… you know. We’ve become quite distant with one another. She has her own issues with what happened, and I don’t want to push her. I can’t force her into therapy.”

“But you can get her back home, Draco. People are starting to talk.” Pansy said the last in an undertone, casting furtive looks around the pub. Draco made a noise of disgust and waved a hand in dismissal.

“I don’t care about that. I know what sort of things they’ll cook up. I don’t give a damn.” Draco gave a big sigh and downed his drink. He stood up, much to his friends’ surprise.

“Where’re you going, Draco?” Blaise asked.

“Home. If I had known that all that the both of you were going to do was just sit here and criticise my choices, I wouldn’t have even bothered coming. It’s not worth my time. Don’t bother owling me to meet next week unless you have something else to talk to me about.” Draco walked out of the pub to the astonished faces of his two friends.

* * *

Ron sat amongst the reedy grass that sluiced through the grains of sand that bordered the lake near Shell Cottage. He was skipping rocks into the lake, watching the ripples.

“Ron, dear?” Molly gingerly sat down beside him, her limbs protesting slightly.

“Hey, Mum.”

“You’ve been rather quiet lately. It isn’t like you. Arthur and I are concerned. Is it the shop? George hasn’t said-”

“Nothing’s wrong with the shop. I went to a Healer, Mum.”

“I thought you already were? The group one, with the Malfoy boy.”

“I am doing that, but I’m seeing another one, too.”

“Why?”

“In the group sessions, Laurel suggested that I see somebody else for something called ‘depression’. This new Healer asked me to go to a lake, pond, a body of water, and throw stones into it. I’m supposed to write about what I see, and what I might mean for me.”

“And what do you see?”

“It ripples, but then it goes away, you know? Like it never happened. Except it did happen, and the lake worked to make itself calm again. It’s like it worked through it, acknowledged what happened, and moved on.”

“Which means what for you?” Molly asked, genuinely curious. This was the most her son had spoken in months.

“That I need to work to forgive and deal with it. My issues. Not dwell on everything. I’ve… missed things. Like talking to you, like we used to.” Suddenly Molly’s arms were a constricting force around her son and she was peppering his face with kisses.

“You are so smart, my boy, I am so proud of you.”

“Mum! Geroff me.” Ron’s ineffective struggles made Molly laugh. Growing serious, she held him at arm’s length away from her and looked at him contemplatively.

 “You’ve gotten much wiser over the years, Ronald. I am proud of you. So proud.” Ron blushed to the roots of his hair.

“Mum!” They were suddenly interrupted by Ginny poking her head out the kitchen window.

“Mum! What does it mean when the pot starts spinning around in the air?!”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

“Hello, everyone. Now, before we start with this session-well, actually, I don’t quite know if this session will start. It depends on you.” Ginny looked confused as she looked at the therapist.

“Laurel, what’re you on about? Are you thinking of cancelling the sessions? These sessions have helped.”

“Yes, I know they have. And I know that I have gotten your consent for these sessions, but now…”

“You’re having second thoughts as to the efficacy of the therapy.” Draco drawled, looking at Laurel over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“Yes. I am. I wanted to offer all of you my apologies that I was perhaps too rash with this experiment.”

“Apologies… what for?” Harry asked, cradling Lily. Laurel looked at Draco.

“Well, for including you in the sessions, Draco. School records do not come close to surmising how… antagonistic your relationship with everyone here had been. Had I known how… volatile your relationship with everyone here had been as children, I wouldn’t have had you all inhabit the same space for such an intimate situation.”

“You didn’t know? Didn’t Harry or Draco mention it in their sessions – like, the private ones, before this?” Ginny was extremely surprised.

“Nope. I was working through my issues with becoming a father, and a few things about the war. School didn’t really come into it.” Harry supplied.

“Fatherhood was something Laurel and I discussed in my private sessions, but I was also working through the… fallout my father left behind.” Draco sighed.

“Hold on a moment. So if you didn’t know, and they didn’t tell you, how are you coming to this knowledge?” Hermione asked.

“I really can’t say at the present time. All I can say is that with this knowledge that I have now, I can’t have continuing these sessions on my conscience. I do commend the opening up you’ve all accomplished over the last month. You have all done amazingly. But I can’t let you continue as a group, as one source of the pain, the issues you face sits with you.”

“That’s bollocks.” Ron murmured, looking at Draco.

“What’re you on about? I made fun of you mercilessly when we were at school. I was an absolute tosser. And you still want to have these sessions, with me around?”

“Well it wasn’t the easiest thing, for sure. That’s part of the reason I was so reluctant at first. But it’s not about how you made fun of me during school, not anymore. It’s there, and I’ll probably talk about it at some point, but this is about working through our issues as a group. And if this group includes you, then so be it. You’re not the tosser you were in school. You’re still bloody arrogant. But you’re not that spoiled brat from school.” Having said his part, Ron leaned back in his chair, his attention on Laurel again. Draco turned to her, too.

“C-can I, say something?”

“Of course.” Laurel said. Draco turned his head to face the group, taking a deep breath.

“When I was a kid, I learned everything from my father. That was traditional, Mother being in the background. I had no reason to think it was wrong – that doesn’t excuse my behaviour, at all. But it is one of the reasons I was the way I was to you in school. When my behaviour was… applauded by other Slytherins, I saw no reason to correct my ways. Like I told Granger last week, we tend to make fun of the people we compete with or admire, to see if they’re worthy. Very Slytherin.”

“But you didn’t admire us, and you weren’t in competition with us either. So…” Harry shrugged his shoulders, wanting Draco to pick up his train of thought.

“So why was I a swot? Seeing you three, and the easy way you had with one another. The way you’d punch each other in the arm as a joke, or the way you’d just sling your arms around each other’s shoulders. Like siblings. It was never like that in Slytherin house, and certainly not in my own household.”

“You were jealous.” Ginny murmured, surprised at the sudden sympathy she felt for the blonde haired man. Draco seemed to shake himself out of his better memories, and stared at the youngest Weasley.

“What would you know about that?” He sneered at her, feeling the need to revert back to old attitudes to cover up his moment of softness. His face relaxed into calmer lines after he spoke.

“They always seemed like this impenetrable triangle when I was a kid. They were so close. Sure, I had friends in my year. But both Harry and Hermione were nice. I wanted what the three of them had – real friendship. So I get the jealousy, even though it was for different reasons.” Ginny shrugged.

“I suppose the insults were a form of protection against what I really felt. But I never realised what an impact they had, on any of you, until-until we were older. I’m sorry for that.”

“Thank you very much for the apology to everyone, Draco. It sounded very heartfelt. But we did go just a little bit off track.”

“There was no track to go off of. These sessions are helping, Laurel. If they’re not, we’ll tell you.” Hermione asserted. She looked at the group, not bossily or defiantly, but wondering if they agreed with her. Ron nodded.

“I’m still in.”

“Me too.” Ginny took a sip of her tea, as if that settled that.  

“Same here.” Harry clinked his cup with his wife’s.

“Even after everything I did to you all?”

“It’s not just about you, Draco. We’re a group. And this is working, so far.” Harry took a swig of his own tea.

“So what now, Laurel?” Ginny asked.

“Well, since we’ve already made some progress in this meeting, I want you to be completely sure that this is something you wish to continue. Take this week to think about it, and be sure. Come back next week with your responses.”


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Kumbaya Experiment,_

_Jealousy._

_Well, I never expected to feel jealousy, especially when that emotion was aimed at The Golden Trio. Looking at them, the way they would nudge each other to communicate something silently, the way that they’d just ­look at each other and be able to say something. At first, it was bloody vomit inducing. But then I think about my House, and Blaise, and Nott. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle. I could never hold even a five minute conversation with Crabbe or Goyle. Blaise was better for that, but I think he was always painfully aware that I was a Malfoy, and treaded carefully around me. Pansy… she was interested in other things. We were never that… casual with one another. I realised I missed that. When I said that level of familiarity never happened in my home, well, that’s not entirely true. When I was little, I remember Mother leading me by the hand through the garden, and then we’d lay side by side in the grass, and she’d run her fingers through my hair… I’d fall asleep like that, sometimes. But once I hit maybe ten, anything like that stopped. I was to be going to Hogwarts soon. I needed to act like a proper Malfoy, and one does not let their mother fuss over them like they're two - my father's words._

_I think I have an idea as to what – or who – has prompted Laurel to bring up stopping the sessions. I think I’m going to need to have a little chat with someone._

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

_Journal,_

_Stopping the sessions? Has Laurel gone barmy? We’ve all made some really amazing progress, and I’d be happy for them to continue. I wonder where she got her information from, and what it said, exactly. I mean, I’m the one that performed the Sectumsempra curse on Draco. I nearly killed him. If Snape hadn’t been around to heal him, I would have. So why did Laurel not mention me and how I was antagonistic toward Draco? I don’t get it. I still want to continue the sessions. They’re helping everybody. _

_HP_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_My brother George spoke to you, didn’t he? I know that there were a few times that he tried to talk to me at the shop and I may have seemed not myself… which may have gotten him to write to you. I’m sorry about that. But I don’t want to stop the sessions. Sure, I do have issues with Malfoy. Merlin’s pants, he was a bloody Death Eater. He was a complete utter shite to me and my family in school. He put Katie Bell in the hospital, for months. He poisoned me, for Godric’s sake. So yeah, there’s still a lot to talk about, but even I think, reluctantly, he’s improved on some level as a person over the last ten years. Being a father can do that to you. So I’ll deal with my issues with him when the time comes. Please, let these sessions continue._

_RW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_I wonder what prompted Laurel to want to stop the sessions. Yes, we do all have issues with Malfoy in one way or another. He was a Death Eater, a bully, and a coward. As a result that might seem a bit unethical, but this is why Laurel presented this to us as an experiment. She’s had permission to test this, and it is helping. So it should continue._

_HGW_

* * *

Ginny read over her transcript as she sorted herbs and potions ingredients in the pantry, taking note of what needed to be restocked.

_It’s interesting to see that Draco was just as jealous as I was about The Golden Trio when we were in school. It’s a bit refreshing to see him experience that kind of feeling. I can’t believe that Laurel wanted to stop the sessions! We’ve all made so much effort, and Ron’s opened up, and Hermione will open up eventually about her stuff. I think it’s harder for her, especially, because Ron, Draco, and I are purebloods and Harry’s halfblood. Hermione’s muggle, she felt as though she had to work twice as hard, so a lot of her issues come from being seen as so different from everybody else. That must be hard. But I can see that she’s invested in the process. We all are, in some way. I don’t see any reason for the sessions to stop._


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**  

Draco stood just before Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with his lip curled in distaste. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation at all. Scorpius squirmed in his arms.

“All da colours, Dahdee. We go inside? Pwease.” Scorpius drew out that last word until it grated on Draco’s ears and he relented.

“Let’s go in, Buddy.” They walked in and they were bombarded with noises: bangs, beeps, sirens, and the delighted screams of children. Draco walked up to the front desk and saw George just behind it, making a sale to a mother and her three children. It didn’t take long. The mother manoeuvred herself around him with a large box, her three children excitedly following behind.

“And how may I help – oh, Malfoy. I assume you want my brother. Come to torment him some more?” George leaned casually over the desk to speak to the Malfoy patriarch. Suddenly, Scorpius reached forward toward the cages that lined the desk.

“I came to speak to you, actually.” Draco looked around the place with a modicum of distaste.

“Dahdee, gween! It’s gween!” Scorpius screeched, reaching. George looked over at the young boy deciding to humour the little kid with cherub cheeks and a glow in his eyes.

“Hey, kid. Those are Pygmy Puffs. Cute little fluff balls. He allowed to hold one?” George’s attention shifted from son to father, who rolled his eyes and nodded. George opened the cage and took out the green one, and settled it into Scorpius’ outstretched hands.   

“Ohhh Dahdee. So soft.” The Pygmy Puff squeaked and rolled around in the limited space Scorpius’ hands provided, and Scorpius giggled.

“Don’t squeeze him, he don’t like that.” George warned the little boy, before turning his attention to Draco.

“So, what you want, Ferret?”

“I wanted to tell you to stop sending letters to our therapist. It’s not going to achieve what you think it will.”

“Ooh, idle threats from a Malfoy, no less. That’s new.” George oozed sarcasm.

“You did send her a letter of some sorts, didn’t you? About how I made Ronald’s life a living hell, or something of the like?” Draco raised an eyebrow. George narrowed his eyes at the use of Ron’s first name.

“I never sent anything of the sort!” George feigned innocence, place a hand over his heart as if wounded by the accusation.

“Look, the testimonials as to my behaviour as a kid from you and whoever else may have helped you didn’t do the trick. We’re going to continue with the sessions, despite your interference. It’s not your place to interfere. It’s not your therapy. So stay out of it, Weasley.” Draco’s voice was threatening to rise, and George looked around with alarm before realising that no one was paying attention. He leaned further over the counter, a smile pasted across his features. He started to speak, quietly.

“Have you seen my brother? He’s loyal, to a fault. Of course he’s going to agree to continue this abuse, especially if his wife, best friend, and sister say they’re going to continue this farce this bint calls _therapy_. You are a Death Eater-”

“I was, Weasley. Not anymore.” George waved the correction away, unwilling to hear it.

“You’ve done horrible things to people I hold dear. You hospitalised Katie Bell; you bringing the Death Eaters into the school led to my brother Bill being mauled – he almost didn’t make it. You poisoned my baby brother. You just stood there while my sister-in-law was being tortured by your crazy aunt. And you didn’t even see Azkaban for any of it, since The Boy Who Lived vouched for you. That’s what’s messed up about it all – you didn’t even get punished for the things you did. You attempted to kill Dumbledore, for Godric’s sake.”

“I understand where your anger is coming from. You weren’t the only one who thought I got off easy. That’s why I practically vanished after the trial.” Draco supplied. There was a long silence.

“You’re not going to even apologise?” George was running his finger along the hole where his ear was, something he did when he was anxious or angry.

“You’re not the one I have to apologise to.” Draco muttered.

“My brother is not well. When I talked to my brother Bill about it, all he would say was that the last time Ron was this… despondent was during the War, when he, uh, visited my brother.”

“Left Granger and Potter, you mean.” Draco corrected.

“Granger-Weasley.” George countered automatically, but his eyes had widened in shock at Draco’s correction. Only the family knew that. 

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” Draco drawled. “Yes, Ronald mentioned that he left them while they were searching for Horcruxes. Surprised, are you? Now listen, this might be beyond your… intelligence, but you feel like shite in therapy. You’re being forced to relive things you’d rather forget. So of course Weasley isn’t himself. None of us are. But if you continue to interfere… and that does eventually stop what _that bint_ is trying to do… you will do us all more harm than good. Especially your brother.” When Draco finished, George started laughing.

“Wow, a Malfoy being unselfish. That actually is a new one. Never thought I’d see that.”

“Look, your brother has issues concerning me. That whole Gryffindor group does. He has yet to talk about them. You and I both know that unless he talks about it and gets it out there, none of us are going to get any peace. He’s not going to stop looking like someone’s murdered his pet dog, and he’s not going to stop calling me the scourge of Evil.” Draco figured a little embellishment would go a long way. He was satisfied when George let out a long suffering sigh.

“We won’t send anymore letters. For now.” George huffed. Draco sent him his trademark smirk.

“Wonderful. We’ll take this… Pygmy Puff, since my son is so enamoured with the thing.” George gave them all the necessary supplies in a box, whilst the young boy grinned.

“Dahdee Pymee Uff come home?” Scorpius asked. Draco looked at his son, a genuine smile gracing his usually harsh features.

“Yes, Scorpius. He’s yours. Keep the change, Weasley.” Draco tossed some Galleons onto the desk, well aware that he was giving George more gold than necessary. He turned and walked out of the shop, his son’s gleeful sounds making the whole embarrassing encounter worth it.

* * *

Later that day, Ron opened the door to home and walked inside.

“’Mione, I’m home, love!” When he received no response, fear stabbed through him. He started methodically checking each room, wand at the ready. Finally, he found his wife in to loo, sitting on the floor, remarkably pale. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

“Oh! Ron! When did you get in? Oh god.” She struggled to stand, to embrace her husband, but the sudden movement caused her stomach to lurch, and she was over the toilet again, retching. Ron put his wand away and gathered her long hair in his hands, noticing that it was already quite damp near her scalp. Gathering her voluminous hair into one hand, he used his free hand to rub circles on her back.

“How long have you been – what’s that muggle phrase – worshipping the porcelain goddess? Should I get Mum? Or a healer to come over? ” Ron asked, concerned.  Hermione shook her head, causing more than a few strands of hair to come loose. The sounds of her retching subsided, and she sat down on the cool tile once more. Ron grabbed a towel and ran it under the sink in cold water before handing it to her. She sent his a grateful smile before rubbing her face, the back of her neck, and finally her mouth with the wet towel before tossing it into the sink with a deft movement. She looked at Ron with a smile that was shaky this time.

“We should make an appointment to see Healer Valen.” She murmured.

“Healer Valen? Why – oh. Oh… _Oh_ , blimey.” Ron slid down to sit on the floor, across from her. Their legs tangled.

“Yeah.”

“I thought we-”

“We were careful. But… New Year’s…” Hermione blushed and Ron grabbed her hand, the one that was still slightly damp from the towel she’d used.

“Ah. Right. How far along? How are you feeling? I mean, apart from…” Ron gestured to the toilet and Hermione laughed.

“I’m okay. Four months, I think. Healer Valen will verify, obviously. Are you… happy?” Hermione wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Ron used the one not holding one of hers to rest under her chin so she looked up at him.

“A baby. Hermione, I’m thrilled.” Ron’s smile was wide, showing his dimples and emphasising the happy shine in his eyes.

“Really?” Hermione gave him a hesitant smile, but her eyes were uncertain. Ron huffed and gently pulled her across the bathroom floor and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.

“Really. Remember when we didn’t think we would even have one? Now we have Rose, and whatever this little peanut is going to be. This is amazing. Thank you.” Hermione settled her back against his chest, and Ron pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The sat like that for a while, content.

* * *

Harry was sitting at their kitchen island, peering at a multitude of papers spread around him. Ginny walked into the room, and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Dinner’s in twenty minutes, Harry.”

“Hmmm, yeah. I’ll clear the table then, don’t worry.” Ginny sat across from him.

“What ‘cha working on?”

“These are the new Auror recruits. I’m looking at their files to see if any of them are too risky to take on.”

“Risky?”

“Defiant to authority, won’t work in a team, bad at spellwork, not athletic enough. That kind of thing. All of those things are risks. The last set of recruits we accepted last month are going through Occlumency and Legilimency training tomorrow.”

“Harry?” Sensing what might become a serious conversation, Harry set down his quill and looked at Ginny.

“Yeah?”

“Do you regret naming our son after Dumbledore? It’s been… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, since that session.” Harry was already shaking his head.

“If I was going to have second thoughts about it, I wouldn’t have done it. I named him after the two bravest wizards I’ve ever met. That hasn’t changed. I think it’s just… not having to think about how my life was essentially planned out because of that prophecy for a while, and then to suddenly have to think about it again, it’s jarring, you know? I thought I’d put my feelings about that to bed.”

“He cared for you, Harry.” Harry nodded.

“I know that. I do. It’s just hard to… reconcile that against him needing to keep me alive long enough to die, you know? Dumbledore sacrificed a lot to make sure that Voldemort could be stopped. Ultimately, he gave his life to the cause. So did Snape. I’m not angry about it anymore. Just confused, I suppose. How can someone show me such compassion and teach me things when they know I’m eventually going to have to sacrifice myself to save everybody else? How could he look at me and not think ‘poor kid, he’s going to have to cut his life short in a few years, what a burden’ and still be able to do the things he did for me? Why would he want anything to do with me, when I was just going to die anyway? I don’t get it.” Harry mumbled.

“Harry, he knew that you would need that help in order to keep the rest of us safe and to stop Voldemort. Maybe he did think those things; we’ll never know. But he was preparing you for the hardest thing you would ever have to do. He was the only one who knew the full scope of what you would have to do – him and Snape. All three of you had to make sacrifices. That is a hard bond to break. I never realised it before, that bond essentially lives on in Albus’ name. Fitting, I think.” Ginny had moved to sit beside him, their legs touching. Harry leaned his head on her shoulder and heaved a great sigh.

“Thanks, Gin.” The timer beeped, signalling that dinner was done. Ginny used her wand to turn off the oven and remained by Harry’s side, content to sit with him for a while.

Dinner could wait.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

Laurel sighed and looked at the letters that had been weighing on her for what seemed like the hundredth time as she waited for her clients.

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_You don't know me, but I am George Weasley, Ron's brother. Ron's been a bit, well, a lot, unhappy and morose since this whole therapy thing started. So I thought I'd write to you to tell you something I think you need to know._

_Draco Malfoy is a huge part of the reason that Ron has the issues he does. I don't know how much he's actually told you, but Malfoy was absolutely horrible to Ron in school. When we were younger, Ron was never particularly… fantastic at anything. He was good at a lot, but he didn't have anything with which he excelled. Malfoy and his cronies would never leave him alone about that. They made him feel like he was useless and while they might have thought it was harmless, it definitely wasn't. Malfoy seemed to really enjoy doing it, showing off in front of the other Slytherins while he stripped my brother of any good feelings he possessed about himself. Laughed his head off when Ron started vomiting slugs. Even got him poisoned. Hermione and Harry were his lifelines when he was being mercilessly bullied, so thank Merlin for them. So what I'm trying to say here is that the two of them being in the same room for what you're calling therapy is hurtful to him. It needs to stop. I expect a letter back letting me know that you've done so. Or else I'll go to St. Mungo's myself and tell them how unethical this is. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, and an attempted murderer. Don't forget that._

_George Weasley_

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_My name is Katie Bell. George told me about this therapy that you're having Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry go through. He told me that Draco was also part of this therapy and so I can't sit idly by and have it continue. When he was younger, Draco acted without regard for any consequences. That resulted in Ron getting poisoned, Death Eaters coming into the school (one of them mauled Bill), and myself getting cursed by a necklace. I was lucky I survived – I was at Mungo's for months. I do not see any apologies coming from him to any of us for his misdeeds. He's also called Hermione a 'mudblood' since she was twelve. Someone who uses that kind of language, especially so young, to someone who would have no idea what the word means as a muggle, means to me that Draco is unwilling to own up to his disgusting bigoted behaviour. It is one thing to be taught that behaviour, yet another entirely to espouse it yourself and believe in it, which Draco proved to all of us time and time again that he did._

_This therapy needs to stop. You're harming everyone more by letting it continue._

_Katie Bell._

Laurel sighed, and placed the letters into the folder that always rested on the table beside her chair for the sessions. It held all of her notes for these sessions. She saw the door open, and Draco came inside first, Scorpius in tow. The little boy ran up to her holding out a tiny green fluff ball for her to inspect.

"This Dwagon." Scorpius informed her with glee.

"Hello, Dragon." Laurel said to it. It moved suddenly in response to its name, surprising Laurel.

"It's a Pygmy Puff. He didn't want to part with it." Draco shrugged and sat down as he explained. Scorpius decided to sit in his father's lap this time, cuddling Dragon and occasionally babbling to it.

"You don't have to worry about receiving any more letters." Laurel quirked an eyebrow at Draco's words.

"Oh?"

"I had a talk with George. Told him how none of us want it to stop. That he'd be going against his brother's wishes if he continues to send those owls." Draco said, eyes on his son gleefully holding the little green fluff ball.

"Well, thank you for that. I appreciate it, though you didn't have to."

"No, I know. But even if we'd all agreed to keep going, if you'd gotten more letters, you would have stopped regardless of what we said to you, and then where would we be? Nowhere useful."

"So when Ronald does decide to talk about what happened at school?"

"It'll probably be very explosive. But I'll be ready for it when the time comes." When he stopped talking, eyes still trained on his son, the door opened once more and everyone else filed in including James and Albus. James pulled his brother in the direction of the toys. When everyone was settled Laurel clapped her hands together.

"What is our decision?"

"Stay." Harry and Hermione said.

"Well, I said stopping was bollocks last week didn't I? That didn't change."

"I'm with Ron." Ginny agreed.

"Draco?" Laurel asked.

"Let's begin." Draco murmured.

"Alright. But if at any point, any of you feel that this isn't helping you, please come and tell me."

"Fair enough." Ron said. Everyone else nodded agreement.

"So, a few sessions ago, we had Ron talk about his childhood. But we didn't have the chance to hear from anyone else. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"What was it like, being a child possessing magic to muggle parents?"

"Uhm, well, my parents are highly logical people – I suppose that's where I get it from – but when weird things started happening… it didn't go over well."

"Weird things? Like what?"

"All the windows opening at once. Or glasses would break. Oh, the table floated into the air once, too. My parents thought they were going quite mad. When Dumbledore came to our house to explain what it all meant, my parents were a little wary. They were walking on eggshells around me. I hated that."

"You thought that they were afraid of you, that you were going to hurt them."

"Yeah. It wasn't until the summer before fourth year that I confronted them about it that they really told me what was going on."

"What did they tell you?"

"They were afraid I was going to hurt myself. That every time I performed accidental magic, I would harm myself somehow. And it would be their fault because maybe they were the ones that set off the accidental magic in the first place. But then… going into our seventh year, I used my magic to betray their trust." Hermione's voice faded as she got lost in her thoughts.

"What do you mean? How did you betray them?" Laurel asked, trying to bring Hermione's focus back.

"I knew that Voldemort's supporters were targeting muggleborn families of students from Hogwarts and killing them – it was in The Prophet for weeks during the summer. So I knew my parents would be targets, too, since it was known that I was friends with Harry. So I obliviated them to forget they ever had a daughter and put it into their heads that moving to Australia was a good idea. I still worried though, that they would be recognised, caught and tortured for a reason that they had no memory of. I worried that I wouldn't be able to find them again once the war was over. There was a lot to worry about." Hermione shrugged.

"That makes so much sense now." Draco murmured. Harry turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I overheard – there were snatchers arguing once – about how they couldn't find you or your parents. They'd found your house, but it had been sold, there was nothing there." Draco shrugged.

"What happened when you went to look for your parents?" Laurel asked, steering it back to Hermione.

"I went with Harry –"

"Not Ron?"

"Uh, I had to help with the shop. George… wasn't himself. I mean, none of us were, after Fred's death, but George was the worst. So 'Mione went with Harry. We wouldn't let her go by herself. Even though she tried." Ron said, glaring at his wife.

"What? Harry had Auror training-"

"Hermione, I'm the Chosen One – I could've postponed training for like a year and they would have still let me on." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay. Anyway, so we went. It took a couple weeks to find them, working with the Ministry there, who was in turn working with the Australian government. When we did find them and I returned their memories to them, they were furious. I didn't know if they would shut me out or not, or forgive me for it. It took a while, but they eventually did to my enormous relief. They wanted to stay in Australia though; they were really happy there."

"How do you think your parents felt about finding out you'd obliviated them?"

"Angry. That I hadn't trusted them enough to tell them exactly what was going on and trust them with the secret. But they didn't know about legilimency. They felt betrayed because I am their only daughter and I took away all their memories of me. They said it didn't make me any better than the Death Eaters I was protecting them from. That I was just as manipulative, no, more so, because they were my parents." Her calm façade was ruined by the tears in her eyes.

"They didn't speak to her for nearly a month. She went every day, to talk to them. Some days they didn't even open their door. That made me so angry. She didn't even know if she could reverse what she'd done. She risked so much and they didn't even seem grateful. They are her parents. They have no idea how much she sacrificed for them. The fact that it took so long for them to forgive her… I don't understand." Harry murmured, reaching across to pat Hermione's hand. She gave him a grateful smile.

"Getting memories, especially central ones to the person, removed and then restored, is a very mentally exhausting experience. For them to realise that they've led this whole other life for sixteen years, which has been replaced, is very stressful. It's understandable that they might need that time to process everything. I know it must have been just as mentally exhausting for you, as well, Hermione, to return these memories." Laurel said. Hermione nodded.

"Yes. They felt immensely betrayed."

"In your journal, I want you to answer this: if you had the chance to do anything over with your parents, would you?" Laurel watched Hermione's expression turn inward, already considering the question.

"Harry." Laurel turned her attention to the dark haired man, who looked over at her with resignation.

"Bugger." He muttered.

"You knew it would come up eventually." Laurel pointed out. Harry sighed.

"I know. Uhm, okay, context. My mum was magic. My aunt Petunia, her sister, was not. She was jealous or scared of magic, I think. She called my mum a freak." Harry said.

"How could you know what your aunt called your mum if your mum's dead…?" Draco asked.

"Snape gave me some of his memories before he died. He and mum were neighbours when they were kids."

"Oh. How odd." Draco murmured. Harry barked out a laugh.

"Oh, it gets weirder, but that's a story for another time, yeah? So after my parents were killed and I had to go live with someone, Petunia, her husband Vernon, and son Dudley were the only option. Once I started displaying accidental magic – well, even before that, really, but it certainly increased after that – they thought they could squash it out of me. My room was the cupboard under the stairs until I was going into my third year – then it became a bedroom upstairs that they locked me in. They installed bars on the window. They sometimes forgot to bring food up to me. My cousin was the worst though. When I started having dreams in my third and fourth year because of Voldemort, or Cedric, he bullied me cruelly about it. Though, I always did wonder what he saw when the Dementors attacked us going into my fifth year. He was kind of shattered after that, and he turned things around a bit. Then the Order moved them to a safe house and I haven't heard from them since. That's why my friends were like my family in school, and why I always saw Hogwarts as my home. Privet Drive was not my home."

"Did you worry about them when the Order took them away?" Laurel asked. There was a pause as Harry thought about it.

"At the time, no. I was more worried about getting everyone safely to the Burrow. Then it was the Horcruxes, defeating Voldemort… but after, yeah, I did wonder what had happened to them. Dudley actually mailed me a letter a few years ago." At Harry's words, Ginny, glanced over at her husband, a look of surprise on her face.

"He did? Why didn't you say anything?" Harry shrugged.

"He'd managed to find someone left from the Order, got them to owl me a message. Nothing came of it, Gin. He doesn't want to meet face to face, or over the computer. He said he wasn't ready for that. He just wanted to tell me that they'd survived, since he knew I'd be wondering about it." Harry shrugged again.

"Did he at least apologise to you for how much of a twat he'd been when you were kids?" Ron asked. Anticipating the curse word, Draco covered his son's ears.

"There was some of that in there, yes. Until Dudley's ready to meet in person, I don't think he'll be ready to give a full apology. But it was better than I'd hoped, actually, since I never expected any communication from him at all."

"Are you still angry at your relatives?" Laurel asked.

"No, not really. In my work, there are times when I've seen kids being abused, due to their use of accidental magic. Or times when I'll be in Diagon Alley or something and I'll see a parent being mean to their kid. That reminds me of my relatives and makes me angry. But when I think about what they did, it's like pureblood superiority in reverse, kind of. Muggles were seen as lesser, but they were also afraid that muggles were stealing their magic; I mean, that was the whole premise that the Ministry was using at the time to gather muggles in one place. The Dursleys were afraid of magic, and so they took it out on me when I displayed it because it was something they didn't know anything about and weren't willing to. Yes, they were cruel about it. Yes, they were abusive. It was awful, at the time. But Dudley's attempt at an apology did help a bit. It showed me that he's grown up." Harry shrugged.

"In your journal, I'd like you to write to Dudley. Imagine you are meeting for the first time in years. What would you say?" Harry nodded at Laurel's direction.

"Draco." Laurel turned her attention to the blonde haired man, who cringed.

"Yes?"

"What was having Professor Snape as a Godfather like?"

"Starting with the easy stuff, huh? It's very traditional to appoint someone as Godfather. Severus was a great choice, as he would work at the school I was to attend, someone to keep an eye on me. He was always very… aloof. He was a great teacher when I needed it, especially with Occlumency. Before Bellatrix started teaching me, of course." At this, Harry scoffed.

"Harry." Laurel admonished.

"Sorry, but he was a rubbish teacher for me."

"He taught you Occlumency?" Draco asked, dumbfounded. Harry nodded.

"Fifth year. An attempt to keep Voldemort out of here." Harry tapped his own head. Ron snorted.

"Yeah, like you kept him out at all, mate." He rolled his eyes as Harry's face flushed.

"Look who told me to 'let him in' to find out where Nagini was." Harry pinned Ron with a glare.

"Well, yeah. We had to." Ron shrugged.

"I know." Harry waved Ron's words away. It was all in the past now.

"There are a few reasons why your sessions with Severus were predisposed to be… difficult." Draco supplied. Harry turned his attention from Ron back to Draco.

"Oh?"

"Well, Severus disliked you intensely – though I never really understood why. Oh, you were a Gryffindor  _and_  quite annoying at the time, but it never really called for that amount of animosity."

"He loved my mother, but my father bullied him when they were in school."

"Then how did-"

"My mother end up with my father? Snape said something to my mum that she saw as unforgivable. It pushed her to my father. But to Snape, I was a constant reminder of my father to him."

"What did Severus do?"

"Called mum a mudblood. It, I think, was Snape's way of protecting her and making her safe. Especially since he was going to be a Death Eater." Harry went silent as he contemplated that last. Draco filled the silence.

"Oh sh-damn. So when he decided to spy for Dumbledore…."

"He did it for her. And me, by extension, even if he didn't like it." Harry shrugged.

"Huh. Imagine if things had happened differently?" Draco murmured. Harry gave a chuckle and leaned back in his chair.

"I know. I think about it a lot."

"So, Severus was a great teacher, but essentially just a Godparent in name only. Have I got that correctly?" Laurel asked. Draco nodded.

"Yes. I agree with that."

"What about Mrs. Malfoy?"

"What about her?"

"Deflecting." Laurel sing-songed. Draco sighed.

"Sorry. Mother is Mother? I don't know how to… she was as staunch in her beliefs as Lucius is – was – sorry, need to talk in present tense in public, hard habit to get out of. She was totally and completely behind her mother when she pushed Andromeda away from the family for marrying a muggle. I still think if the same thing had happened now, my mother would act in the same way as her mother." Draco was speaking freely; he'd seemed to have forgotten that the others were there, comforted by Scorpius in his arms.

"So, if you wanted to marry a muggleborn and your mother opposed, what would you do?" Laurel asked. Draco seemed to think about that for a while before he spoke.

"See, my marriage was arranged – I mean, we defied the norms in that respect. The courting period is supposed to be six months, the engagement period three, and a year between marriage and conception of a child. We dated for a year, were engaged for nine months, and it took us nearly two years to conceive Scorpius. My parents were angry at me for going against tradition."

"Why did you?" Laurel asked.

"I wanted to get to know my future wife. I didn't want our marriage to be loveless. She didn't either. So we decided to just go on dates and see if we were compatible. And we were. But anyway, I'm avoiding the question. Let's say for the sake of argument that Astoria and I hadn't found ourselves compatible. Let's say I met a muggleborn who I found myself compatible with and fell in love with them."

"Not bloody likely." Ron muttered.

"Excuse me? In my work with alchemical manuscripts the majority of the people who own them or can get me viewings of these rare artifacts are actually muggles. I go to them, or they come to the house. Look, were I not married and faithful to Astoria, I could fall for someone so long as they are intellectually stimulating and pleasing to the eye. Pure, half, muggle, squib. Doesn't matter to me so long as those requirements are fulfilled. If I wanted to marry a muggleborn and my mother objected, I would still marry her. Even if it caused a rift between my mother and I. I've learned the hard way about letting my parents have such a driving hand in my life. I won't let it happen again."

"Are you, or were you ever, proud of being a Death Eater?" Laurel asked. Draco looked shocked at the insinuation.

"Of course not. Being a Death Eater was a horrible thing. If there was anything I was proud of when I was at school, it was my family name. Which I guess in a roundabout way meant my father's Death Eater connections, though I never thought about it that way, not in those terms. Just that our name meant something to everyone. We had power, from Ministry officials down to the more shady characters. All bases were covered. But when I got the Dark Mark all that changed."

"What changed?" Laurel prompted

"My father was desperate. I wanted to put our family back to what it was, in the public's… good graces, if you will. But never at the price of the Dark Mark and all that came with it. I never wanted that. But I wanted to please my father, so I was blinded to his desperation because I was overcome by my own to make him happy. To protect my family." Draco was shaking slightly.

"How did your parents react when you received the Mark?"

"Well, Voldemort was living in our house. They both  _looked_  proud, though I suspect it felt less like an act to Father than to Mother. But after, when we had privacy and we were back in our wing, I could see how worried Mother was. After you get the Mark, it hurts for days afterward. Like you've been burned. Not many people know that. Mother gave me a tonic for the pain, but it didn't work."

"Dark Magic works in odd ways, Draco." Laurel murmured.

"I wanted it gone the moment it was branded into my skin. Wanted to skin it off. Once I'd gotten over the pain of the initial marking, I tried, too. When the skin grew back, it did too." Draco looked down at his marked arm with something that looked like disgust mixed with fear. Even now, with slightly warm weather, Draco always wore long sleeves. There was a heavy silence. Harry was steadfastly looking over at where his children played. There were charms around the play area that prevented the young ones from hearing the conversation the adults were having. Ginny was looking down at the pattern in the carpet. Hermione was looking between Laurel and Draco, perhaps knowing what question she was going to ask next. Ron was fidgeting with his hands, tapping his foot, clearly uncomfortable.

"Did you harm yourself again?" Laurel broke the silence. The tautness in Draco's jaw was a clear answer.

"I didn't think it was a big deal at the time. It-it helped with the stress, the anxiety, the fear. Everything just seemed too much, too out of control. I remember when I skinned my arm I felt relieved. I was rid of him, even if it wasn't permanent. So I tried again. Just a cut this time. It helped. It was like a small bit of defiance, it made me feel better. I did that all through sixth and what would have been my seventh year."

"And after that?"

"After my sentencing I went to France. I needed to be away from Britain. I was… on a pretty regular basis, until four years ago. Cut too deeply once. House Elf had to heal me." Draco wrapped his arms around his son, seeming to seek some comfort in the gleeful, wriggling boy on his lap.

"Have you felt the need to self-harm recently?" Already Draco was shaking his head at Laurel's question.

"No. When Astoria had Scorpius, My focus changed. I think about it, sometimes, when I'm stressed, but I don't do it."

"Does Astoria know?"

"Yes. We do not hide things from each other." Draco looked around the room, as if challenging any of them to question or make fun of what he'd said. Harry looked like he was going to say something.

"Draco-"

"What, thought it was all flowers and sunshine? That the Malfoys don't have issues aside from our beliefs in blood purity? Mother renovated the whole Manor while I was in France. Didn't even recognise it when I returned. As if by renovating it she could get the dark stain of Voldemort living there, killing there, out of the walls, the floors, everywhere. There are times when she thinks Lucius is still alive, like actually believes it. Sometimes she doesn't speak for days. I think it… damaged her to give him over to St. Mungo's to protect us from him when he lost it. It should've been me protecting them, but I couldn't." Draco looked vaguely ill, and Scorpius seemed to pick up on his father's discomfort. He looked up at his father and extended the Pygmy Puff toward him.

"Hold Dwagon. Dahdee no feel bad."

"Thanks, buddy." Draco held the puff ball in front of him and the creature rolled around in his hands. Draco smiled in spite of himself.

"I wasn't going to laugh at your experience, Draco," Harry said quietly. "We all had our… vices, after the war. Hermione threw herself into work to the point that she burned herself out. Ginny… well… kept herself distracted – we were newly married so, the, erm, way she was distracting herself was easily explained, and I was happy to oblige at the time because I didn't know that was how she was coping. Ron turned to drink…at the time I think he was happy to not feel anything at all. You already know that I was addicted to Dreamless Sleep. We all turned to these things during and after the war to cope. I was just trying to tell you that, you know, since we all had issues, I never thought that the Malfoys were issue-less."

"Draco. I want you to write a letter to your father. Imagine he's sitting right across from you and he will not hurt you, your mother, your wife, or your son no matter what you say to him."

"I don't know if I can."

"I'm just asking you to try, yeah?" Laurel looked at Draco and waited, clearly expecting an answer.

"I'll give it a go. But no guarantees." Draco mumbled. Laurel nodded.

"Okay. I'm going to end the session here for today. I also want you to write in your journals about these… vices, as Harry put them, and ask why you turned to the ones you did – how did they help you? How did you break from them? Great work, everyone."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Dear Kumbaya Experiment,_

_I was told to imagine my father were here and speak to him as if he would not strike me or my family down for whatever I said. But whenever I start to think about it, all I remember is him casting the Cruciatus Curse on my wife. On me. Me not being able to protect the people in my household. Astoria losing the baby. Our child, gone. The child that was hardly even in existence before it was… snuffed out by my father’s cruelty. If he were here, I would tell him that he ruined us. I would say that as a child and a teenager, all I wanted to do was please him. And I failed – I could never be ‘Malfoy’ enough for him. Once I failed, I think my father saw me as weak. Someone not to be proud of. But knowing now, how desperate he truly was to be in Voldemort’s good graces, how that directly, severely compromised his judgement in his role of father and husband and affected my mother and myself. He opened his home to the most evil wizards in Britain. Our home. When I became a Death Eater I wanted to restore the Malfoy name. I wanted to protect my mother. I did not want to hurt anybody. I’d hurt enough people, by accident, on purpose, to know that if I could help it, I wouldn’t hurt people to save my family. But it was futile. The people I tortured… I’ve never forgiven him for that. I don’t think I ever will, even though he’s dead._

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

_Journal,_

_Would I have done anything differently with my parents, knowing what I know now? I really don’t know. If I hadn’t Obliviated them… they would probably be dead. The Order couldn’t hide everyone. People, muggles, were already dying even before I Obliviated my parents. So I didn’t think I had a choice but to do that. It was my only option. I still think it was my only option. I just wish… I wish they’d taken it better. I mean, if Rose or whatever this little one is going to be ever did that to Ronald and I, I would be livid. So I understand it. But it broke something in me to do it, and then something else entirely broke when they… rejected me. I know they didn’t, not really. But that’s what it feels like. They disapproved, they were angry, they pushed me away. But even now when we talk, it’s not the same. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same ever again._

_HGW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_So I’m supposed to write a letter to Dudley. I don’t really know how to start this, but here I go:_

_Dear Dudley,_

_Thanks for your last letter. I appreciate you reaching out. I don’t really know what else to say… living with you and your parents growing up was one of the toughest things. It was abuse. I don’t so much care about what happened to me anymore, but whenever I see a kid or somebody being hit, yelled at, whatever, I get so angry. Bu not only that, I also felt sorry for you. You were sheltered, and while that made me jealous when I was fighting murderers at fourteen, I realised you would never be prepared for real life. They’d limited you. Taught you that being cruel was okay. That making fun of people was okay. That letting mummy and daddy deal with everything was okay. That’s a horrible way to grow up, too. I feel sorry for you. I hope you’ve learned that the teachings you’ve received at the hands of your parents were wrong. I was never evil, Dudley. Yes, I did things that I wasn’t always in control of, and I did things that seem impossible. But that didn’t mean that either of us deserved to be treated the way we were._

_HP_

* * *

Ginny sat in the bedroom. She’d kicked Harry out and he’d decided to take the kids for a walk, knowing she needed her privacy for what she was going to talk about. Her face was already beet red at just the thought of what she was going to say.

“My vice… well, I wanted to be distracted. From Fred’s death, the way everyone except George and Ron were acting toward me. Harry and I were trying to figure out how being a couple was going to work. He was more than happy to be my distraction. We’d figured out we were going to get married, that much we knew. We just didn’t know when. Maybe when things had calmed down? I wanted to be… close to someone. Take comfort. Mum is very traditional about certain things. But… since we knew we were going to get married down the line, and I wanted that distraction and that comfort.” Ginny started pacing, running her fingers through her hair in agitation. She could feel the heat rising in her face.

“We started having sex. A lot of it. Ugh, this is so embarrassing.  I just felt so disconnected with everything, but everything was happening at once so it was really confusing. The sex helped. It’s kind of hard to explain. It was grounding, in a way. Whenever Harry touched me – and it didn’t even have to be sexual, just knowing he was there helped – it was like things focused. I could deal with everything happening at once. I think it was because Harry sort of gave me a break from home when we were together. We spent a lot of time at Grimmauld place. So whenever I went back home It wasn’t so bad, I think?  I don’t know if the dependence was healthy, probably not. It’s not like that now, though. I always feel super supported by Harry. But it’s not that… desperate, like it was when we were first starting out as a couple.” Ginny paused, reaching the bed and sitting down at the foot of it.

“I think I chose sex instead of anything else because I knew Ron was drinking – we wasn’t doing a great job of hiding it – and Hermione was throwing herself into work. Harry was relying on Dreamless Sleep, which is just a scary thought. It just seemed the safest, the least damaging.” Ginny stopped the recording and watched as it spat out the transcript.

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_You asked us to think about our vices and why we chose those specific ones over others. After Fred died, things were… difficult. I was feeling a lot. I was thrilled that the war was over. That we’d survived – well, most of us. I was excited to start a relationship with Hermione, outside of the fighting and the whirlwind of emotions. And then I thought about Fred. The fact he was dead. The fact that George looked so fucking lost without him. The fact that Fred would never make one of his cheesy jokes. I was so angry. Happy. Sad. I was being pulled in about a million different directions and so much was happening. We were rebuilding our lives. Harry was a mess – he suddenly didn’t have to save the wizarding world anymore and he had no idea what to do with himself. We were all having nightmares. Ginny looked like an Inferi. She wasn’t eating, barely sleeping. She wasn’t registering anything. I didn’t know how I could help. Mum and Dad were the most affected. They just… drifted. I didn’t know what do to. So I drank. It numbed things. Made things easier to… just easier. Instead of feeling like I was being pulled in every single direction imaginable, things felt… manageable. It was blissful, sometimes. One of the things that sticks out during my drunken stupor, was a fight I had with Hermione. She’d sunk herself into work, I’d been drinking. She was upset. I don’t remember why. She called me a sad drunk. I remember being angry at her, then. She wasn’t any better than me at the time. We were all struggling. She had no right to throw stones. But I was also embarrassed. I didn’t feel like I deserved her. So I got help. I went to muggle AA meetings. They really did help. When I was sober for a few months, I helped Hermione with not overworking herself as much. I think I chose alcohol because I didn’t want to feel things as sharply. Other things would only heighten what I was feeling or be way more dangerous. So that’s why I went with drink, I think. I am so glad to not be that person anymore._

_RW_


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

“So, Ginny.” Laurel smiled as the young woman frowned.

“Damn.”

“You really thought I’d forgot that you didn’t have the chance to speak last week?” Laurel asked. Ginny seemed to squirm.

“Nope. But I was hoping. So, what’s your question?”

“What is it like being the only daughter in a line of boys?” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Annoying in a lot of ways. It was normal for me to act like a boy. Expected. So in my first year when I opened the Chamber and wrote things in chicken blood on the walls, it became the elephant in the room. Ron was the only one to check in on me when I had bad dreams, or freaked out about something. Everyone else just expected me to forget about it or something. All that changed when Fred died.”

“What changed?” Laurel prompted. Ginny heaved a sigh. 

“We were suddenly okay to be emotional about it without any repercussions, without being seen as weak. Without being told to suck it up. Without being told that we needed to be strong. Whenever I had dreams about my hands being soaked in blood, dripping with it, or-or cutting off a chicken’s head it was always ‘oh, dear, well take some Dreamless Sleep and it’ll all look better in the morning’ and since them I’d learned, you know? I’d learned not to be emotional. Or at least not to let it show. But all that went out the floo when Fred died. Suddenly I was cold-hearted for not crying or talking about how sad I was.” Ginny drifted into silence, and Harry was suddenly twisted to face her, knees knocking against hers.

“Gin, love, we both survived the Chamber. Why didn’t you come and talk to me?” Harry asked of his wife, who shrugged.

“You were still very much The Boy Who Lived at that point, and I was still very much in the hero worship stage.” Ginny gave a small laugh, and her husband reached over to rub her knee.

“I get that. You don’t talk about your trauma to your idols.”

“Exactly. Prat.” Ginny murmured when Harry smirked at her.

“Did anyone in the family confront you about your reaction to Fred’s death?” Laurel brought her attention back. Ginny shook her head.

“No. They just gave me looks and muttered under their breath when they thought I couldn’t hear about how cold and awful I was being. That hurt, because I was grieving like everybody else. I felt like something was gone, a hole in my gut that never got filled up. He was taken away from us and I just wanted to scream and cry and rage at the world that they took him away. That they took his laughter and love and mischief away. My right to be emotional about my own brother’s death, or about anything at all, was taken away from me the moment they dismissed the fact I was possessed by a bit of Voldemort’s soul!” Lily started to fuss at her mother’s agitation. Ginny passed her to Harry and stood, her breathing as shaky as the legs that supported her as she stumbled out of the room. Ron looked at Harry.

“Want me to go?” Harry shook his head.

“I’ll go. Give her a couple minutes to herself, first.”

“Good idea. Don’t want to subject yourself to her Bat Bogey Hex.”

“Definitely not.”

“Did any of you know how Ginny felt?” Laurel asked the room at large. Hermione was already shaking her head.

“No. None. I knew she was taking Fred’s death hard. We all were… but I had no idea she was feeling that much pressure to be… unemotional. I wish I’d known.” Hermione arms banded over her middle. Ron sighed.

“I knew about how mum and dad had treated her bad dreams. I didn’t know it had started to affect how Ginny dealt with grief, too.”

“I noticed the looks she got from family members at the funeral. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t want to cause a scene by asking why they were looking at her like that. Ron, mate, maybe we should both go see how she’s doing.” Harry passed Lily to Hermione, who took her with a smile immediately gracing her features. Ron and Harry trooped out of the room and went upstairs to the roof. The immediately had to duck, for she threw raw, uncontrolled magic their way.

“Hey Gin! Watch it! It’s just me and Ron!” Harry raised his voice to reach across the other end of the roof. Ginny spun toward them again, but seemed to realise that neither man was a threat. All the fight sapped from her. She plopped down on the bench she was standing beside and put her head in her hands.

“Sorry. I just… I got so angry. The only place where I felt I was every truly treated like an equal, and not the first Weasley girl born in a line of boys, was when I played Quidditch. I was valued for my skill. Any other time… I was used to holding everything in.” Harry and Ron sat on either side of her.

“Ginny, I had no idea this was running through your head. I would have told you that crying and raging at the world was okay. Not to care what people thought. Keeping those sorts of emotions inside… you explode, eventually.” Ron took his sister’s hand as he spoke.

“It’s a lot of expectations to live up to, especially when you’re still trying to figure out where you fit in the world. I’m sorry too.” Harry kissed her cheek. Ginny gave them both a small smile.

“It’s going to take some getting used to. I didn’t even know that I’d felt that way. About them taking away my right to grieve.” Ginny murmured.

“Let’s make a trip to see Fred, love. I think you need it.” Harry said. Ginny nodded.

“Yeah. I think I do too. Let’s go back inside. We’ve been up here long enough.” They went back downstairs and found it as they’d left it. Ginny took Lily from Hermione, pressing a kiss to the woman’s cheek in thanks before she sat back down. Laurel looked up from her notes, apparently having been content to let silence fill the room while they’d been gone. Laurel cleared her throat, suddenly nervous.

“I have a proposition. Instead of meeting next week, I have gotten permission from your employers – Ronald, you’ll have to speak to George, though – to give you next week off. I want you to use this week to spend time with each other, as a group or separately, outside of these sessions. I don’t do this with the intention of you forming friendships. That’s not what this is about. But what I want you to take away from this exercise is that you have common ground with others in the group, and maybe not in the ways you initially thought. As you all have such busy schedules that would be difficult to plan around, I ensured you got next week off to do this exercise. I want you to write in your journals about what you do, and with who.” Silence met her words for a moment. Draco sighed heavily.

“I’m probably going to regret this, but we’ve a Château in France on the outskirts of a small muggle town. There is more than enough room for you and your children. You can come and spend a few days.”

“You just don’t want to end up in The Prophet with the Golden Trio and Ginny Potter.” Ginny said sardonically. Ron snorted.

“That is a convenient benefit to having what amounts to a free vacation in a very small, muggle town. We’ll be unknown. I really don’t want to give myself more publicity here, good or bad. So what d’you say? Fancy going to France?” Ron leaned over to speak with Ginny before she could respond to Malfoy’s question.

"It’s not just that, Ginny. Bet he doesn’t want the papers wondering even more where his wife is. Sure she's still in France, Malfoy?" Draco pinned Ron with a steely glare.

"I don't appreciate your insinuation, Weasley." Draco had never sounded more like his father than in that moment. He lifted his son off his lap and onto the couch beside him. Scorpius looked between his father and the red haired man, noting the tension held between them.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure she's found some other scion of the Sacred Twenty Eight, don't worry your little ferret head over traditional ideals." Before Ron had even finished, Draco was up, wand levelled at Ron's face, Ron following seconds later. Hermione, sensing a fight of some kind was imminent, had a shield charm up between them that pushed both men back a few inches.

"Ron, darling, sit down. You should know better than to believe everything you read in the prophet, love. I really ought to have a chat with Rita Skeeter about the drivel she's been writing lately. Draco, I speak on behalf of everyone when I say we’d be delighted to accept your invitation. Ronald, you’ll talk to George, of course." Hermione’s tone brooked no room for argument.

“Well, I guess that’s that then.” Harry murmured.

“I will owl you all with the address. I’ll have the Elves prepared to receive you on Monday.” Draco collected his son and left the room, apparently deeming the session over.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**Chapter Twenty One**

 

On Monday, they arrived as a group via international Portkey. Hermione swayed, and Ron grabbed her arm to steady her.

“You alright, ‘Mione?”

“We’d be delighted to come, I said. I hate travelling by Portkey.” Hermione muttered, taking Rose from him. They stood in a huge field, facing a nearby road which led to grouping of roofs surrounding a church. Draco could be seen walking from the town toward them, Scorpius toddling ahead to meet them. Scorpius reached them, gasping for breath.

“Hi!” Scorpius yelled at them all. Lily started to squirm at the sudden noise.

“Hello, Scorpius.” Ginny said to him as she bounced Lily in her arms. Lilly settled and Ginny let out a sigh of relief.  Draco caught up to his son and the rest of the group. He turned back the way he had come.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Draco murmured, his face canted toward the small town.

“You weren’t joking when you said small town.” Ginny muttered.

“Yes. Well, the Château was a gift from my father to my mother before I was born, intended as a vacation home. After the war and before I was arranged to be with Astoria, I spent a lot of time here. It’s mostly refurbished and renovated now.” Draco pointed behind them all, and suddenly when they all turned back to the field, the Château was there.

“Merlin’s pants.” Ginny murmured.

“It’s beautiful.” Hermione said, awed. It was two floors, but those two floors stretched for most of the field. Instead of being built up with multiple floors like the Manor was, making it tall and imposing, this Château was a wide and sweeping two floors, a grand gesture across the field. The stones were painted a light cream colour, while the roof and windows were a dark brown, a stark contrast. Half of the second storey was lined in glass.

“That’s the conservatory, the solarium. And the library.” Draco muttered, seeing where everyone’s attention had been drawn. Draco opened the gate and led them all inside.

“So since we all have to spend time with one another, I thought we could make a list of activities we all like to do and coordinate.” Hermione started. She was met with groans from Ron and Draco. Ginny laughed. Draco and Ron had actually agreed on something.

“Really, Granger? I see your knack for organisation has not abated with age.” Draco walked along the slightly lengthy path to the house; flowers and potions ingredients lined both sides of the path, with other paths veering off it towards other parts of the property, undoubtedly toward a more formal garden behind the looming house.

“This may be true but I’m trying to be practical. Laurel wants us to find common ground with one another. Not just with you, Draco, since you are the one out of all of us that we know the least about, but for all of us.”

“But, Hermione, we’re married.” Ron pointed out. Hermione made a sound of frustration.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean we know absolutely every single thing there is to know about each other. Yes, we were in the same House at Hogwarts. Yes, I spent months with you and Harry in a tent. But that doesn’t mean that I know everything about you. Maybe there’s a hobby I missed, one you developed recently, or something.”

“I haven’t, love.” Ron said with certainty.

“Well, even so, this is an opportunity to learn more about one another, and I’m trying to simplify things. By making lists of hobbies and things we like to do and cross referencing them, it’ll make it easier,” No one responded as Draco opened the main doors and they were received by the ten House Elves, all in clothing of varying style. Hermione looked at them all, then at Draco. “Huh.” Hermione said softly. Draco looked at her.

“What?” Hermione shook her head.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“If you say so.” Draco said as one of the House Elves, wearing a grey beret and a blue sundress, came forward.

“Welcome to the House of Malfoy. My name is being Starry, and I is the main House Elf here. If you is needing anything, please be speaking to me. Now, please could Mister Potter and his family be coming this way? Tinker will be showing you to your rooms.” A stocky elf in a white shirt and suspenders waved and led Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily upstairs.

“Pleased to be meeting the Boy Who Lived and his family! Please be following me.” His wavering but boisterous voice led them out of view.

“Lulu, please be showing Mister Weasley and his family to their rooms.” Starry said. A House Elf wearing a onesie of a purple dragon came forward.

“Hello Weasley family! Pleasure to be meeting you. Please be following me.” They were lead out of sight as well, and the other House Elves disappeared, perhaps to prepare dinner. Draco walked into the drawing room and slumped down on the couch, heaving out a sigh. Scorpius climbed onto the couch and did the same thing whilst looking at his father.

“What’s wrong, Dahdee?” Draco put his arm around Scorpius to draw him closer. His son snuggled to his side with a happy sigh.

“Nothing, kid. I just haven’t had people over in a long while. It is a strange feeling.”

“Like when I get the potions so that I don’t get sick? Potions are icky.” Scorpius stuck his tongue out, and Draco laughed.

“Yeah, kind of like that, Scorpius. You have to get those potions, but you don’t like them.”

“You don’t like Wiwy? Or Wose?”

“Lily and Rose are both fine, Scorpius. I just don’t like having people at the house, that’s all. I like having you here, and Astoria, and Grandmum.”

“Why?” Scorpius asked, eyes wide, trying his hardest to understand.

“I don’t know if I can explain it to you, Buddy.”

“Dahdee twy to tell me?”

“Later, yes I will try. Okay?” Scorpius smiled.

“Yes, Dahdee.” They sat in a companionable silence and then heard the sounds of the children chattering as they came back downstairs. Albus toddled into the drawing room, James close behind. They slid to a halt in front of the couch.

“Your house is so cool!” James blurted, before covering his mouth. He clearly hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Harry and Ginny, hand in hand, came into the room moments later.

“Very slick, James love.” Ginny murmured, running her fingers through his hair before he had a chance to complain about it.

“Well, it’s true! This house is awesome!” James was unable to contain his excitement. Draco’s mouth twitched with the effort he was taking to contain his smile at the child’s exuberance. Harry was staring at his son, a slightly sad look in his eyes. Ginny glanced at her husband to see his reaction to James, and frowned at the expression in his face. He cleared it seconds later, a happy smile resting on his features. Draco looked at the exchange, eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was looking into Harry’s bright green eyes. He raised an eyebrow at Draco, as if to say ‘yeah, what of it? You going to say something?’ Draco looked at four year old James, who was still looking around the house with something akin to awe.

“Thank you, James. Scorpius and I like this house too.” Draco stood, bringing Scorpius with him as he led everyone to the dining room. There was a sizable round table, with smaller and smaller round platforms on top of the table on which the food was placed. With a flick of Draco’s wand, the platforms on top of the table started to rotate; in this way, all of the food was accessible to everyone.

“I thought we would eat, what is the term… family style, as the elves prepared different kinds of food. I did not know what your preferences were,” Draco sat down, put Scorpius in the next chair on a booster seat, and looked at the assembled group. “Well? Take your seats, we’re not getting any younger.” He finished drily. After a long pause, everyone ranged themselves around the table. Even with everyone seated, there were still at least ten more chairs. Starry came and took them away. They started eating, and the sounds of cutlery and shifting around were comforting, for a while. Then, it became awkward as the adults looked around at one another, not quite knowing what to say. Hermione broke the silence with a put-upon sigh.

“I said we should have made lists. Since we did not, how about we talk about the things we like to do?” Hermione looked around the table and finally settled on her husband, who squirmed under her gaze.

“Fine, Hermione, fine. I like to draw, sketch. We sketch out plans for new products at the store, so I do most of that.” Ron shrugged. Ginny glanced at him.

“So those sketches, the ones in the frames at your house, they’re yours?” Ginny asked. Ron nodded.

“They’re the ones for the products that Hermione liked the most.”

“Oh… honestly, Hermione, I thought they were some muggle drawings that you liked and framed.” Ginny said, frowning. Hermione shook her head.

“Nope. Most people think that when they come over.”

“You get more precision actually drawing by hand than with magicked writing utensils, even if that way’s faster. What about you, Hermione?” Ron muttered.

“Apart from reading, of course. I like gardening, since it reminds me of the times I spent out in the back garden with mum and dad at the house, and I like learning languages.” Hermione looked at Harry.

“Quidditch, obviously… and running’s useful. I like to craft – I made all of the cribs for the kids by hand.” Harry said, shrugging. He looked at Ginny.

“I like gardening too. You’re going to hate me for this, but I took up knitting.” Ginny said. Ron gave a loud groan.

“Come on, Gin. Seriously? We have enough of that from mum, now you have to add to the knitting madness.” Ginny glared at her brother.

“I’ll have you know that it’s relaxing once you’ve got the hang of it. With seven kids, it’s no wonder that mum did all that knitting,” Ginny rolled her eyes and turned her gaze to Draco. “Well? What about you?” Draco didn’t speak for a moment, but instead looked at his son, who smiled back at him.

“I make and experiment with potions, mostly. But Scorpius and I-”

“De-nome!” Scorpius screeched, clapping his hands as he interrupted his father.

“Yes, buddy. We de-gnome the property whenever we’re here, make a game of it.” At his words, Hermione looked to Ron.

“Isn’t that… dangerous for little kids?” She asked her husband. Ron shrugged.

“The gnomes can be nasty little buggers, but as long as you’re keeping an eye on everyone who’s doing it, it’s fine. I was doing it when I was his age anyway, along with Fred and George.” Ron nodded his head toward Scorpius.

“Alright then.” Hermione went back to her food for a moment before she was interrupted by Draco.

“So, I know that Weasley here is running the shop, Weaslette is working for the _Daily Prophet,_ and Potter is catching the bad guys-” Harry interrupted him.

“No, actually, I’m not. I’m training the people that are going to be catching the bad witches and wizards of Britain.” Harry smiled like the cat that ate the canary and dug into his food. Draco gave Harry and indecipherable look before he turned to Hermione.

“So, cough it up, Granger. What are you doing these days? More of that contrite House Elf sympathy legislation?” Hermione glanced up and dabbed her mouth with a napkin before answering.

“Well, my House Elf ‘sympathy’ legislation must have done something, since your elves are free. But no, actually, that’s on the back burner for now. My office is in negotiations with the merpeople. They are asking for more territory on the eastern seaboard, and we are in debates as to whether to give it to them.”

“Why is it a debate?” Draco asked.

“We think it’s a good idea, but we want to put them under some restrictions with regards to the populace. In historical records, they are responsible for most ships being destroyed at sea, and fishermen and women going missing. So we want to… curtail those inclinations of violence. We’re working through a translator, but it doesn’t seem to be working so well with the merpeople in the Great Lake, so I’m trying to learn their language so that I can talk to them directly.”

“I’ve heard her practicing. It’s a right awful sounding language.” Ron muttered. Hermione turned and glared at him.

“Well, I don’t have the right vocal chords for it to sound lovely, Ronald. But I’d rather talk to them myself than have the translator anger them – none of us really know what he’s saying to the merpeople; for all I know he could be sabotaging it before we can come to any kind of agreement.”

“Well, the library is open to all of you – merpeople, fighting tactics, sketching and writing techniques, it’s all there, as far as I can remember. You’re all welcome to make use of it whilst you’re here.”

“Why are we here, Malfoy?” Ron asked suddenly, setting his knife and fork down.

“What do you mean, Weasley? I thought we covered this already. To keep this – which, mind you, would be fodder for those gossips at _The Prophet_ otherwise – out of the papers, and to be in a picturesque, relaxing locale. We all have the week off, we might as well use it to our advantage.” Draco said, spreading his arms wide to take in the large windows, the chandelier above their heads, and the massive amount of food in front of them.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s all. Otherwise you’d be dragging your feet about having us all here.” Ron said. Hermione grasped his arm in warning as Draco leaned forward, elbows on the table – for which his mother would have scolded him for – and his hands clasped in front of him.

“Enlighten us then, why don’t you?” Draco’s tone had dropped, nearly reminiscent of Lucius when he was at his most cruel. Scorpius looked up at his father with something akin to alarm.

“You really don’t know where your wife is, do you? You were hoping she was here, so it was convenient to go to the country where you thought she’d be. This whole thing was just a good cover for it.” Ron said, leaning back, a smile on his face. Hermione leaned into her husband.

“Ronald, we are guests.”

“No, no, Granger, let him talk. He hardly used any intelligence in school, let him wow me.” Draco drawled, levelling the ginger haired man with a serious look. Ginny nudged Harry, and directed her gaze toward the children, who had focused all their attention on the two adults. Harry started quietly ushering the children, minus Scorpius who’d refused to go, and Lily, who was asleep, upstairs and away from what could be an imminent argument. Rose’s voice travelled from the steps, just out of sight.

“But Unca Harry!”

“Hush, Rose. You go upstairs with the boys. Go, now.” Harry’s voice wasn’t as quiet as he perhaps thought he’d been; his steps were fast as he descended and re-entered the dining room to hear Ron’s answer.

“You’ve been eying the floo since we settled for dinner, as if you’re expecting someone else to arrive. There were additional chairs here. There’s some food here that I’ve never even seen before, which means it’s either for you or for her. So what’s going on, Malfoy? Trouble in paradise? Astoria giving you the run-around?”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione raised her voice.

“That was way out of line, brother mine.” Ginny said. Scorpius was looking between Ron and Draco. He finally settled on his father.

“Dahdee? Where Mummee?” Scorpius asked; clearly he’d been able to follow at least part of the conversation. Draco stiffened for a moment, the only indication that he clearly did not want to answer the question, before he gave a huge sigh and kissed the top of his son’s head.

“Why don’t you get Starry to take you to our wing? She can help you use the floo in there.” Scorpius shook his head.

“Want Dahdee hewp.”

“Okay, I’ll help you. Come on then.” He lifted Scorpius out of the booster seat and onto the floor. He walked over to Ron’s seat and leaned down to speak into his ear.

“If my son gets upset when we can’t reach her, it’ll be on you, Weasel. Remember that tomorrow morning.” He took his son’s hand and led him down the hall to the Family Suite.

“You’re taking things way too far, mate.” Harry said, slumping in his seat. Ronald gave a laugh, but not like anything was funny.

“I was right, though.”

“It’s not always about being right. You’re my best friend mate, but this time you were wrong. Way wrong.” Harry left the room, his footsteps loud on the steps.


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Chapter Twenty Two**

After trying nearly every floo connection Draco could think of and having no success hailing his wife, Scorpius was yelling and stomping around their wing, inconsolable. Starry was standing by the entrance into their wing, twisting her beret in her hands.

“I WANT MUMMEE! Mummee Mummee Mummee.” Scorpius screamed, red in the face, tears trailing down his cheeks. Draco stepped in his son’s way and hefted him into his arms, trying to pin his flailing feet and arms.

“Okay buddy, we’re going to go outside and go for a walk, alright? You need to calm down Scorpius.” Draco walked to the back door and set Scorpius on the ground. The path wound through a gorgeous back garden with a large pond in the middle. There were two swans there, huddled in the small, grassy, brush-filled island trying to sleep. Scorpius, remembering Draco’s instructions on not startling them, stopped screaming, though he continued to sniffle. He wiped his snotty nose and wet eyes on the sleeve of his jumper before Draco stopped him. Draco led him to the bench that rested near the edge of the pond and lifted him onto it. Draco sat down beside him.

“Dahdee…?”

“Yeah, mate.” Draco sighed, rubbing his son’s back to try and keep him calm.

“Where Mummee go?”

“You know how she goes away for work, and sometimes she’s gone for a while?”

“Yeah….”

“And then comes back with presents for you and me from her times away?”

“Yeah Dahdee.”

“It’s like that, buddy. She’ll be back soon and she’ll bring you the best present ever. She’s just not near any floo network right now, that’s all,” Draco was going to say more, but then he felt a flutter along his body, an internal warning that the wards had been breached, but by somebody friendly and allowed to walk through them. He doubted that it had been his mother, which really could only leave a few select people: Blaise, Pansy, and the Greengrass family.

“Expecto Patronum.” He whispered as he slipped his wand into his hand. An ermine poured out of his wand and moved sinuously into the air. He murmured a message to it and it scampered away. Scorpius clapped, much calmer now.

“Love magic.” Scorpius whispered.

“I hear someone’s been trying to get a hold of me.” A feminine voice drifted across the garden, bounced off the water in the pond so it echoed in the otherwise quiet night. Draco and Scorpius both looked behind them, and saw Astoria standing a few feet away from them, handbag still on her arm.

“Mummee!” Scorpius screeched, sliding off the bench and toddling over to her as fast as his unsteady legs could carry him. When he reached her, Astoria dropped her handbag into the grass and swung her son into her arms, smothering him with kisses. Draco stood, but didn’t join them right away, content to watch his wife and son interact. Astoria’s lithe frame wrapped around Scorpius’ in a tight hug as she supported him in the air. Her lustrous brown hair, shorter now than the last time he’d seen her, just barely brushed her shoulders as Scorpius fisted a wad of it in his hands, the largest smile on his face that automatically made Draco smile just seeing it. Draco moved around the bench and moved a few steps closer, a bit unsure of his welcome. When Astoria turned to him and gave him a genuine smile, he moved the last few feet and gave them both a swift embrace, resting his forehead against hers. He could smell the sweet perfume she used but he could never remember the name of. Tension he didn’t even know was there melted from his shoulders.

“This is a nice surprise” He murmured to her. He saw a corner of her mouth twitch upward.

“Starry sent one of the Elves to find me, when you couldn’t reach me by floo. But I didn’t know the Gryffindors were here with you.”

“Trying to avoid the press back home.” Draco said. It was all he needed to say. Astoria nodded.

“Understood. We’ll talk later, about it all.” Astoria said, giving him a serious look. Draco gave her a confused one back.

“Okay? You don’t have to-”

“Yes, yes I do. I owe you an explanation. But later. Later.” Scorpius had been patting Astoria’s and Draco’s cheeks and grinning maniacally throughout their whole conversation, oblivious to the seriousness.

“Mummee, Dahdee, Mummee, Dahdee.” Scorpius chanted softly to himself as his hands rested on both their cheeks. His eyes kept fluttering closed with tiredness. Astoria turned around to head back inside, and Draco’s hand rested on her lower back as he moved with her.

“Let’s go to our room. Little man is exhausted.” Astoria murmured.

“Okay.”

* * *

A few hours later, Draco walked into their room from the connecting door to Scorpius’ own room. Astoria looked over at him from her side of the bed.

“Is Scorpius settled?" Astoria asked, seeing Draco’s eyes comb over her in their bed. The sheets covered everything up to her creamy white shoulders, which Draco suddenly found himself drawn to. It was then that it finally hit him. He'd missed her. Her self-assured presence, her calm demeanour, her gentleness. Astoria glanced over at him and noticed him struggling internally with something, but decided not to comment, only sending a slightly concerned look his way.

"Yes Astoria. All settled. Took him a while, he was so wired up," Astoria's voice was like music to his ears as it drifted across the dimly lit room. Draco smiled as he stepped out of his trousers and pants, yanking his shirt off his head at the same time. He left the clothes where they dropped. "He missed you. Scorpius did. So did I, for that matter." Draco slid into the bed, slinging an arm casually around Astoria's waist as he breathed in the scent of her hair. She settled back against his chest comfortably enough, but tensed when his hand slipped under her nightgown and caressed the skin around her hips. She twisted away from him and turned onto her other side to face him; her features screamed uncertainty.

"Love. You're beautiful." Draco murmured, resting a hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes to savour his more innocent touch, but she was shaking her head.

"Draco, you know I don't like the scars."

“I don’t care about the scars, Astoria. You know that.” He pressed his forehead against hers, which caused her eyes to open, startled by the movement. Calm grey eyes looked into surprised brown. They shared each other’s air as they breathed.

“I care. They’re not just scars on the outside, either. They’re on the inside, too, Draco. I wanted to have more children, but-”

“Shhh, Astoria, I know,” His hand moved from her cheek to slip through her hair a few times.

“I thought I would feel better than this. It’s been almost a year, Draco, since he was put in St. Mungo’s for attacking us.”

“Hey, you know I still have bad days, nights, even a decade after everything. I still have nightmares about that night, too.” Astoria’s hand drifted up to the barely visible scar on his temple, rubbed across the slightly raised skin. 

“We never spoke about how you felt when… in his last moments. He went into St. Mungo’s and faded a month after that.”

“Faded… that’s as good a description as any, I suppose. I couldn’t. Not after what he’d done to you. It felt cruel.”

“It felt like you didn’t trust me to handle it. Yes, he attacked me, but he attacked you too.”

“But what he did to you was so much worse than what he did to me, Astoria. For me, it was a punishment – for you? It was just because you were there and he was angry. Nobody deserves that.”

“But he was your father-”

“He ceased being my father the moment he turned his wand on you. Understand?” Draco’s voice was brittle, clearly sending the message that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Draco touched his lips to hers, and she responded, closing the rest of the distance between them on the bed. He kept his hands on her face and in her hair as his mouth explored hers. When they pulled apart to breathe, Astoria’s eyes were warm.

“I missed you. I’m sorry I was so unreachable. That I left you with Scorpius for over a month.”

“I didn’t mind. He’s been amazing. But, I am curious about why you did. I thought you went for work.”

“I did. But work was only for a week or two. I could have come home much sooner but I didn’t.”

“Because…?”

“You were in therapy, trying to work your issues. I wasn’t ready to air out all my issues with a therapist, not to mention four other people I don’t know. I thought it would be better if I stayed away, but I realise now I probably did more harm than good.”

“Astoria, if you’re not ready to talk about it, any of it, then it’s okay. You didn’t have to stay in a whole other country to do it, though.”

“I know that, I do. But the physical distance from it all helped, too.”

“Why don’t you come to a session? I’ll talk to Laurel about it. You don’t have to say a thing. Just come and see what it’s like.”

“Not now. I’m nowhere near ready. I’m nervous just at the thought of meeting the lot in the morning.” There was a long pause as Draco tried to think about it from his wife’s perspective. She hadn’t known them while in school, just known about their shenanigans. To bare her most intimate secrets and thoughts to them? He wouldn’t either, in her position.

“Fair enough. Why don’t we get some sleep, okay?” He kissed her once more before settling his arm around her waist, in preparation for sleep.

“Okay. Night, Draco.” Astoria turned over so her back was to him and he hugged her to him.

“Night, love.”

They were both asleep in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thanks so, so much to those of you that have been reviewing! You are awesome :D


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Chapter Twenty Three**

Hermione sat in the window nook in the library that overlooked the garden. She was making notations in a journal as she read a hefty, bound book. She jumped when she heard someone speak.

“Merlin’s Beard, Granger, I swear you forget you’re a witch sometimes.” Hermione looked up to see Draco leaning against one of the bookcases, his signature smirk warping his features.

“I didn’t have permission to duplicate it. Besides, it helps me to remember if I write it down, anyway. What brings you up here?”

“I was looking for a book on investigative and defensive tactics for Potter. I don’t think he ever set foot in the library at school, so I doubt he’d come up here.”

“He did. Only when I forced him too, though,” Hermione said absently as she turned a page in the book and made a notation in her journal. She closed both suddenly, and gave Draco her full attention. “Listen, Draco, about Ronald-”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s for him and I to discuss, if we discuss it.”

“He will. He’ll apologise.” Draco’s baby fine eyebrows winged up, surprised at Hermione’s self-assuredness.

“And you’re so sure about that why?”

“We all told him he’d been an arse. He means well, but he tends to talk before he thinks about what he’s saying, even if he’s right. He… was right, wasn’t he though? You were hoping Astoria would be here. She wasn’t. That made you worried.”

“She arrived last night.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I assume she’ll be joining us for dinner? She wasn’t there for breakfast.”

“She is… daunted by the idea of meeting you all. You’re the saviours of the wizarding world. She’s from a family within the Sacred Twenty Eight who believed in blood purity but was also overwhelmingly neutral in the war. It puts her in an odd position most of the time as she gets lumped in with the rest of them in terms of ideals.” Now that the book Hermione had been using was closed, Draco tapped it sharply twice with his wand. Another copy of the book appeared beside the original. 

“That’s tough. I can see why she might be hesitant to meet us. I hope she joins us for dinner.”

“She might spend that time with Scorpius. He missed her much more than he initially let on. You can keep the duplicate of the book; despite how efficient you are, I doubt that you’ll get through that whole book within a few days. If you need any others, you’re welcome to duplicate those, as well.” Draco said dismissively. He looked past her, out the window for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. The look he suddenly pinned her with was jolting when compared with the pensive gaze just a moment before. Hermione face settled in lines of defensiveness.

“What?”

“You’re holding back in sessions. I can’t quite figure out why you’re doing it, but you’re not helping anyone, you know. Especially yourself. And in group therapy, you have to realise that sometimes in order to get your own closure you might have to hurt other people.”

“I…”

“Look, I did just what you’re doing now on my one on one sessions with Laurel before I became a father. And afterward, when my father…” Draco trailed off, then waved his hands as if to brush the memory away. “Anyway, it doesn’t help yourself to hold things in. Therapy is for the hard stuff, Granger. It’s never easy. Enjoy your reading.” Draco retreated down another aisle of books to find what he was looking for.

* * *

 

Ron and Ginny were sitting in the drawing room at the small table by the window. There was parchment as well as a new WWW product called Erasable Ink. You used the feather of the quill and it absorbed the bits of the ink that you want to erase, without any smears.

“Pick something you want to draw.” Ron said across from her. Ginny shrugged and thought for a moment.

“A Hippogriff?”

“Okay. So on your parchment you’ll want to sketch out the shapes first. You can erase it later. So the head is kind of an oval shape, and so is the body. The head has a kind of a hooked triangle on the end for the beak. The legs are like really thin sausages. So draw those out.”

“Okay.” There was silence for a while as Ginny did what he described.

“Why did you do that, yesterday? With Draco. I’m not asking to like, be angry at you. I just want to understand. I thought you were past being petty.” Ginny murmured, not meeting Ron’s eyes.

“It wasn’t petty, Gin-”

“It was. You shouldn’t have said it in front of Scorpius. Rose and Scorpius are around the same age, you know Rose is smart and picks up on things. Why wouldn’t Scorpius? And getting everyone riled up just for the sake of being right? Why?”

“It’s…hard for me to move past the House Rivalry and the blood purity shite. The therapist I’m seeing, the one outside of our sessions? She says that I’ve fixated on those things because that was all that the rivalry between Malfoy and I was composed of. Our different ideals about blood purity, the difference in wealth, and the difference in Houses. Whenever Malfoy and I… talked, that was all it was about, so it’s all I think about now – I look at him and see that rich pureblooded Slytherin and everything that comes with that, and I hate him. The therapist says that the hate that I feel, especially something that’s been… what was the word that she used… cultivated, yeah that’s it, from childhood, and never reconciled or sorted out, makes it harder to come to terms with now.”

“Then reconcile. Sort it out somehow. I don’t know. You need to do something, because it’s getting in the way of you thinking clearly. Or thinking before you speak, even. You keep putting your foot in your mouth.” At Ginny’s words, Ron groaned and rested his head on the desk. His voice, when he responded to Ginny, was muffled.

“I know. Hermione hasn’t said a word to me all day. Woke up before me and left our wing. I think she went to the library. I haven’t seen her since last night, and she didn’t say a word to me.”

“It’s stressing her out. It clearly pissed Malfoy off. I think even Harry was a bit upset with you, too. You need to talk to Hermione. You need to apologise to Malfoy as well. You were probably right, but you’re a guest. You need to be polite, brother. At least to their faces, you know?”

“You think that Hermione’s stressed out?” Ron asked quietly. Ginny nodded.

“Yeah, I do. She was trying to get you to stop talking, yeah? And you know that the stressing isn’t good for the baby.”

“I know that. I know how dangerous the stress can be for her and the baby. We already went through this once. The almost two years of trying to conceive Rose. Going through all the options. Considering adoption. All because she’d been tortured – we’d never realised the effect that the Cruciatus Curse would have on women later on in life.”

“Hermione was in a study that figured that out, right?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah. Her baby doctor used to work in the trauma unit, and then he just happened to treat some of the same women when they’d gotten pregnant that he’d treated in the trauma unit, and they’d all been having trouble conceiving. So in the study and research he’d figured out that the Cruciatus doesn’t just affect the outside, but the inside too. It causes stress to the muscles, tissues, and tendons of those who’d been cursed.”

“Wow, that’s interesting.”

“Yeah, it’s common knowledge now in all the magical hospitals. The doctor got an award for his research.” There was a pause as Ginny did more of her sketching. Then she sighed and looked up.

“Ron, we’re all really trying not to treat Draco like a Death Eater. Cause he’s not, now.”

“I know that.” Ron said, his voice rising. Ginny held out her hands toward him in an effort to calm him down.

“We were all there. He may still have the Mark, but he was cleared of all charges, and _should_ be treated like he has. It’s hard for us because we knew him as this terrible kid. But we were kids, Ron. As kids we did stupid stuff. Mostly because we learned it from our parents and our friends and copied it because we thought it was a good idea at the time. But we’re not kids anymore.

“Stop telling me things I already know, Gin.”

“I know for you this is hard. But at least in front of Draco, Astoria, but especially Scorpius, you need to try and be polite.” Ginny finished her sketch outline and handed it to Ron to inspect.

“This is good. Now you need to add feathers to the head and body; erase the sketch marks as you go. And I’ll try. I can’t make any guarantees, but I will try.”

“That’s all I ask. Now, how do I draw these feathers?”

* * *

 

Harry was outside wearing his dragon skin gloves, tearing away at the weeds that had gathered in the garden. He stood up from his stooped position and wiped his forehead with his forearm, heaving out a breath.

“Mr. Potter, would you like some lemonade?” A feminine voice reached his ears and he turned to see Astoria winding down the path toward him, a tray of lemonade floating at eye level beside her.

“Mrs. Malfoy. How’s Scorpius?”

“He’s well, thank you. He’s playing with your two boys and the little girl.”

“James is my eldest. Albus after him. The little girl is named Rose.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you. I couldn’t remember. Lemonade?”

“I wouldn’t say no, but you didn’t have to come out here to give me lemonade.”

“I had other reasons to come out here, Mr. Potter.” Harry gave her a confused look, but ultimately shrugged.

“Sure, okay. But there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Harry.”

“Astoria, then. I wanted to talk to you about the letter that I received from you a couple of weeks ago.”

“Ah. Was wondering when that would come up. Want to sit somewhere?” Harry gestured to the bench not far away and they sat down. Astoria had a piece of folded up parchment in her hands, and she gave it to Harry once they were seated.

“Take a look at it.” When he opened it, he was looking at his own writing.

“But I-”

“I wrote a reply on the back but never sent it. I wanted you to read it, so I thought this would be the best time.”

_Dear Astoria Malfoy,_

_My name is Harry Potter, and I am writing to you about Draco. I don’t know if you know, but your husband is in therapy with myself, my wife Ginny Weasley, my brother-in-law Ron Weasley and his wife, Hermione Granger-Weasley._

_I don’t know where you are – the owl found you, not me – but I think you need to come home and be here for your husband. We’re all here for our spouses as they go through this therapy, and our spouses are here for us. This therapy is not easy and I’m sure that you being back home would make things easier on Draco._

_Three weeks ago, Draco had a panic attack when our therapist asked about his father. Draco had mentioned that you, he, and his mother had decided to bar Mr. Malfoy from access to your son, and our therapist had asked him what his father’s reaction had been. Draco started hyperventilating and nearly passed out. Hermione helped him. I don’t know if he has any support at home, and I don’t know if I’d be welcome or I’d got to his house myself. People without support do things they come to really regret.  It’s you he needs. You don’t need to be involved with the sessions, just be here for your husband._

_Harry James Potter_

_Auror Office, Ministry of Magic,_

_Britain._

Harry flipped the paper over to see her reply:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I don’t know how your owl managed to find me, but I thank you for making the effort. I appreciate you informing me about Draco – he does have panic attacks from time to time and they happen in the most unfortunate of situations, so I am happy that he had someone who could talk him through them without incident._

_My absence from my husband has been necessary for work. I hope to complete it soon so that I may return and be there for Draco. I don’t know whether I will be as supportive as you think I will be. The same reason that Draco has panic attacks is the same reason I have nightmares that prevent me from proper sleep. The same reason that my moods are inexplicably erratic. My arrival home might just make things worse, Mr. Potter._

_How can Draco expect to heal from the wounds that the war and his father dealt him when his wife, who is supposed to be his support, is reluctant to use her wand for any sort of activity and has trouble sleeping? How can Draco expect to heal when his wife, who is supposed to be present in his life, has been mentally absent for almost a year? How can Draco expect to explore all his older, tougher scars, when his wife’s scars have just barely healed over?_

_How, Mr. Potter?_

_I believe I shall stay away a little while longer. If Draco is having a tough time now without my presence, my being there will only exacerbate things._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Astoria Malfoy_

_Philanthropist and Event Planner_

Harry was now slumping in his seat and staring off into the pond, though he wasn’t really seeing it. Harry had to clear his throat twice before he could speak.

“You still would’ve helped. You love one another, yeah?” Harry continued to look over the pond as he spoke.

“Of course. With everything.”

“Then it doesn’t matter how much of a wreck either of you are. You work together to get through your issues. I remember when the war was finally over. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Who was I, when I didn’t have the task of saving the Wizarding World? The answer was a half-blood who was paranoid and looking for enemies in everything. I could never relax because I thought that some dark wizard or some disaster was going to strike and then I’d be needed. Suddenly having nothing to do, nothing to strive for – not for the fame, mind you, I hated that – no people to help. I was lost. And afraid. I’d never really processed coming back from the dead, either. So I was a wreck. I tried to hide away. I spent a lot of time at Grimmauld place.”

“What happened?”

“I was never alone long. Ginny? My wife? She had a heck of a lot to deal with at the time, too – her brother Fred had died, she’d been facing scrutiny about the way she was grieving, she was angry at everything. But she always came over when she noticed I was gone. The company helped, even when I wanted to be alone. If it wasn’t her, then it was Hermione. Or Ron. They were both equally as troubled as I was at the time, but we all held each other together, you know?” His voice trembled and his hands shook as he spoke; the letter fluttered in his clutches as if being caressed by a breeze that wasn’t there.

“So you think I was wrong to stay away.” Astoria was studiously not looking at the older man with the messy hair as he tried to regain his composure.

“Yes, and no. You needed to do right by yourself. You’re a couple, but you’re also two different people. If you felt that you needed time away to get your shit together, then you did. But everyone needs support, too. There has to be a balance, somewhere.” There was a pause as Astoria thought about what Harry had said.  

“Balance. That’s been a hard thing to get, lately,” Astoria stood, her own glass of lemonade in her hands, the tray long since banished. Harry moved to hand her the letter, but she shook her head. “Keep it, Harry. Thank you for speaking with me. Enjoy the lemonade.”

Harry waited until Astoria was out of sight and hearing before letting the tears he’d held in flow down his face, heaving breaths in and out noisily as his body shook with the effort not to start sobbing.

They’d all been such a mess back then – how much has changed, really, when you thought about it?


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Chapter Twenty Four**

Draco woke up first. He always did, lately. He was on his back, Astoria laying half on top of him. The sharp scent of the cinnamon shampoo she used reached his nose, and he breathed it in, sighing deeply. The sound, combined with Draco's change in breathing, caused Astoria to stir. She looked blearily up at him and gave him a sleepy smile.

"Morning, Draco." She said, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning, Astoria." Draco returned her smile. One of her hands reached up to slide along his cheek.

"I missed your smile." Her hand moved down his cheek and her fingers played along his lips. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

"I missed you." Draco murmured, then he frowned. Astoria sat up, facing him, bringing the sheet up to cover herself. She withdrew her hand from his.

"What is it, Draco?" Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making a frustrated noise. He sat up too, the sheet pooling at his waist.

"I've been trying not to let it bother me, and I'm sure that the Engagement Binding and the Marriage Vow would clue me in, but there's been a lot of talk, Astoria. I need to know." He looked at her; it was clear in the lines of his forehead and mouth that he definitely did not want to ask what he wanted to ask, but that to him it was necessary.

"You know you can ask me anything, love."

"Were you – ugh, this sounds so awful – were you with anyone? While you were away?" Draco watched Astoria's eyes widen with disbelief, and a little bit of hurt.

"Where would you get that idea?"

"The press. All of them were speculating. That was part of the reason I came here. The press was relentless with the stories. And then Scorpius and I couldn't find you." Astoria sat in front of him, their crossed legs touching at the knees, her weight on top of the sheets pinning Draco's lower half onto the bed.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Astoria said, framing his face with her hands.

"No." His answer was quick and sure.

"I have never cheated on you, Draco. Ever. I had my reasons for not coming back sooner. I felt like I would make things worse because you were ready to heal your war wounds and I am not."

"War wounds…? What do you mean? I don't understand." At his words, Astoria reached over to their bedside table and took out two letters. The first was Harry's original letter. The second letter had been her original response. She had given Harry duplicates of both. She now gave the originals to her husband to read, starting off with Harry's.

"Just read this." His eyebrows drew inward.

"Potter wrote to you? When? How did he-"

"Just read, love." There was a long silence as Astoria watched his eyes carefully scan the page. Soon enough, he let go of the page and it floated down to rest between them.

"I had no idea he'd written to you. He never mentioned it."

"I just think he wasn't sure how much of a help Narcissa was for you. In his eyes, they all had their spouses with them through this therapy, so they were working through the issues and knew what was going on together. You didn't have that. I don't think Harry thought it was particularly fair. But my response might clarify things." Astoria handed him her letter.

"Potter's seen this?"

"Yes. I showed it to him yesterday, while he was working on the garden." There was another long pause, and when he was done, Astoria wasn't quite sure because he held onto the letter. It shook in his hands. A wet drop appeared on the parchment, and Astoria looked at his face to see tears silently tracking down his face. Astoria grabbed a handkerchief from the bedside table and dabbed at his eyes.

"Oh, love, please don't cry." When Draco looked at her, his eyes were red rimmed and anguished.

"Why did you not say anything about how you were feeling?" He whispered the words, as if his throat were too constricted to speak louder.

"You were going to be healing your own wounds. If you worried about mine as well, you wouldn't be making the progress you are. I wanted to give you that space. You've been suffering so long, Draco. With people making snide comments about you, refusing to serve you in Diagon Alley, and people staring at your tattoo like it's some ugly brand," Astoria grasped his left arm and ran her thumbs along his tattoo. He tried to take his arm away, but Astoria held firm. Draco's eyes were wide; he was starting to panic.

"Astoria-"

"See? Even now, you think it's ugly and deserves to be feared and looked down upon. This mark, Draco? This mark is proof of your bravery, and the sacrifices you made to keep yourself and your family alive. This is not something for you to be ashamed of. You deserve to be treated better than some common criminal, or a dark wizard. Because you're neither, and I love you so, so much. I wanted you to get some closure and I knew you wouldn't be able to do that if I was there not sleeping, there moping, there, but not there, you know?"

"You let me decide what I can handle. Okay? Of course I would want to help you. You're my wife. I love you," Draco gave her a kiss, which Astoria happily returned. "And how bad is the insomnia?"

"It's been better since I've been here, honest."

"Love, I understand where you are coming from. And I love the way that you look at me, and react to me, and support me. But it's not a marriage if you can't let me do the same for you. Okay? Please don't leave like that again. Or, if you feel like you have to, please, please let me know where you are."

"Agreed."

"Good." They shared a kiss, one that gradually grew more heated. They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Astoria moved to get up, but Draco managed to unravel his legs from the sheets and put his feet onto the slightly cold floor. "I'll get it."

* * *

Ron knocked on the door to the Family Suite. The door was flung wide open by Draco, who looked a little flustered. Upon seeing who graced his doorway, however, Draco's face gained all composure and his eyes turned to cold stone. Wearing no shirt, and having his left arm braced against the doorway, bared his left arm and left the Dark Mark visible. Draco watched as Ron's eyes flickered to it; his skin paled.

"What do you want, Weasley? I was having a lie in with my wife before my son woke up." Ron squirmed under Draco's scrutiny.

"I wanted to say that I was sorry." The words seemed to grate against his throat on the way out into the world.

"For what, Weasley?"

"For making assumptions. For being rude about how I delivered those assumptions. I'm your guest, and I shouldn't have done that. I've been trying – it's been more difficult than anticipated to look past our, well, our past. That makes it difficult for me to think about what I'm saying when I'm around you. So I'm sorry for any problems that it's caused you."

"Look, Weasley. It's not the fact that you said less than polite things. Even if some of them were correct. It's the fact that you said them in front of my son, who'd been missing his mother. We couldn't contact her, you know. Scorpius was crushed. One of the House Elves found my wife and brought her back to us. But none of it was our own choice. Scorpius remembered because of your words, and then had hysterics. Because of your words, Astoria came home earlier than she'd planned, and perhaps before she was ready to come back. Do you understand the impact of your words now?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good. I get that as kids things were positively antagonistic between us. I goaded you because you were a convenient target and – in my parent's eyes – a blood traitor. They never had anything nice to say about your family and so I thought I was living up to their expectations by bullying you. But now? I think that your family got some things right. But open your mouth before you think about the consequences again and you'll be out on your ear. Understand?"

"Yeah, definitely." Ron shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. Draco took a look at him, and nodded.

"Good talk, Weasley. Tell Potter and his wife that we'll all do a couple rounds of Quidditch later." Draco closed the door in Ron's face.

* * *

"So, you're not a fan of Quidditch either, Hermione?" Astoria said as they sat down outside on the bench they'd Transfigured from a twig they'd found. Hermione shook her head.

"I do like watching it, sometimes. But it is a very violent sport. I'm also not great on a broom, a fact that my husband never lets me forget." Hermione said with a chuckle as she watched the players weave around one another in a close cluster.

"Agreed. It makes me anxious to watch them. I know Draco's a great Seeker. But there was this one time he played with a local men's team a few years back and they made sure he got knocked off his broom."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, I wish I were. I was happy I was there because I was able to place a Cushioning Charm between him and the ground. No one else did, not even the referee."

"But why?"

"A lot of people think 'once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater'. It didn't matter that he'd been cleared of the charges. That team had just wanted a good Seeker and Draco was definitely that."

"That's awful."

"It's something we both come to expect from most people, unfortunately, even strangers. There have been many times where I had to defend his case when he wasn't even around. I've even been called names because I'm a Malfoy now, even if the marriage was arranged."

"How does arranged marriage work in the Wizarding World? There isn't that much information and Ron's family is not as traditional."

"Well there are many rules. We had forty of them; both of the families involved decide the rules together so there could possibly be more, really. We formally met one another on Draco's twenty first birthday. He was so nervous, I remember. He kept fiddling with the sleeves of his robes and Daphne – my sister – kept swatting his hands away from them because they'd wrinkle." Astoria smiled at the memory.

"That doesn't sounds like the Malfoy – sorry, Draco, that I remember. I don't believe he was ever nervous about anything while we were in school."

"All that changed when he got cleared of all the charges. The war had damaged him as much as the war had damaged the rest of you in this therapy group. I just wanted to say thank you." Hermione looked puzzled at her words.

"Why? What for?"

"You prevented Draco from a fate that would have been most embarrassing to him. You stopped the panic attack that he had when your therapist asked about Lucius."

"How'd you-? Oh, so Harry actually did send that letter, then."

"Yes, he did."

"He never told me what happened afterward."

"I never responded. It took me ages to write a reply, and by the time that I did one of the House Elves from the Château had found me and told me that Scorpius was inconsolable and I should come to comfort him."

"I'm really sorry about that. My husband-"

"Feels very strongly about mine, in no way that is productive or conducive to any kind of healing. I understand. They were rivals of a sorts in school. Those sort of feelings, when cemented in the mind during adolescence, are hard to let go of as an adult."

"I suppose that's it."

"There is only so much we'll stand for in the way of insults and arguments though, you understand." Astoria looked over at Hermione to see the other woman biting her bottom lip.

"I can't tell him to believe in something or someone he doesn't, but beyond that I'll have a chat with Ron."

"This was a place of peace for Draco after he'd been cleared of his Azkaban charges. It was a place of peace for me during our engagement when his parents and mine were pulling the both of us in about a dozen different direction. And again after… what happened with Lucius. This place will remain a place of peace and relaxation. I do not want there to be arguments."

"I don't either. Believe me. We've all had enough fighting for a lifetime." Hermione said wearily.

"We are agreed on that." Suddenly there was a triumphant shout from above. Both women looked up to see Draco holding the snitch above him in the air.

"Good game everyone!" Hermione shouted.

"Whoooo! Well done, Draco!" Astoria shouted, clapping. The Quidditch players meandered down to the ground. Draco sauntered over to Astoria and planted a kiss on her lips, dropping his broom on the ground and wrapping his arm tightly around her waist. Harry reached Ginny and lifted her into the air, running around with her in his arms. Ron reached Hermione and she could see there was apprehension in his eyes. She grabbed his arms and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Well done, Ron. I love you."

"I love you too."

 


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited as of November 8, 2016 - COMPLETELY NEW CONTENT. PLEASE REREAD

**Chapter Twenty Five**

_Journal,_

_We’ve been here for a few days now; we’re nearing the end of our time here at the Château._

_It’s harder to be here than I thought it would be, strangely enough. It’s not hard all the time, just sometimes. But it’s surprising, to find it difficult. I wasn’t tortured here. The Château doesn’t even look like the Manor, not at all. But sometimes I have these thoughts – I know they’re irrational – that a Death Eater, or Voldemort himself is going to storm the place and hurt me. My Rosie. My husband. It’s stressful sometimes, and it’s resulted in me not sleeping well._

_I think Ron blames Draco in a way, for me being tortured, because he didn’t refuse to identify us when we were brought into the Manor by the Snatchers. By default, Ron also blames him for our troubles with conceiving. But, the way I saw it at the time, whilst being chased down by Snatchers, the only person that could not be identified at any cost was Harry. If Harry had been identified, Voldemort would have been called and we all would have died. In the grand scheme of things, Ron and I could have been killed without much consequence in terms of the war, so long as Harry survived and could get the remaining Horcruxes. _

_I went into that Manor knowing I could die. Whoever was going to identify us had no reason to lie; our pictures have been in The Prophet, and if they ever went to school with us, or were the parents of kids that did, they would be able to identify us. To refuse to identify us, if any of them were so inclined, would mean torture and death for them. I don’t blame Draco for me being tortured. I blame Bellatrix, and she’s dead. So I’ve had my closure in that sense, knowing she can’t hurt me again. Those thoughts, though… they’re just sometimes hard to shake. _

_I like Astoria, though. She’s nice. She’s a bit nervous around us, which is understandable, given our… reputations and she’s younger than us. But she and Draco seem to fit together and complement one another._

_HGW_

* * *

 

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I’m not sure how I feel about staying here. In Malfoy’s house. It makes me paranoid. It’s like the Manor all over again, hearing Hermione’s screams and knowing that I couldn’t get to her. Even whilst we’ve been here, it’s like we’ve been miles apart, in our own heads. We haven’t really spoken much since we’ve been here. And then I ran my mouth. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I really do. But since I’ve been here, the fact that ‘Mione and I haven’t been talking, I haven’t been sleeping well because I’ve been dreaming about the Manor all over again, and the fact that I’m spending a vacation with Malfoy of all people… I’d say I was crazy if I had gone back and told past me that this would be happening. It just all makes me so angry and grumpy… I guess I wanted Malfoy to be as angry and grumpy and hurt as I’ve been since we’ve been here. Misery needs company, right?_

_His wife seems okay. Bit twitchy, but okay._

_RW_

* * *

 

Ginny sat in their wing in the Château; Harry had taken the boys and Lily downstairs for a walk in the gardens.

“I like it here. It’s pretty, I feel relaxed here… except for all the tension between Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy. I don’t understand. Ron just seems like he’s got a storm cloud hanging over him. I wish I could help him, but I don’t even know where to start. Hermione… I get where she’s coming from. She was tortured in one of Malfoy’s houses. It’s bound to make things weird, her being here and things being okay and good. It’s grating her and stressing her out because she’s expecting something bad. Harry… he seems okay. I’m so proud of him. He has a lot of reasons to not like Malfoy and not to warm up to this whole idea, but I think he’s really embracing it. Astoria seems nice. I haven’t really spoken to her, but she’s got this… reserve of calm to her. Like nothing can phase her. She’s going to need it. We all could use some of that calm reserve. I envy her that.” Ginny’s shoulders drooped and she stopped the recording. The transcript shot out into her hand. She folded it up and put it in her handbag.

* * *

 

_Journal,_

_It’s been okay, being here. Not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s been… nice, actually. We’ve never been to France before, so it actually has been a vacation. The kids have been really well behaved.  When we first got here, James was so unabashedly amazed. When I look at him, I see what I could have been had I not had the weight of… everything that I did on my shoulders. And I also feel a little guilty. We do spoil our children, Gin and I do. We don’t overdo it – mustn’t give our kids big heads over things – but they never want for anything, and we do extra things now and again for them. But to see James so awestruck over the Château, it makes me wonder: are we doing enough?_

_Talking with Astoria was good. I think she needed to hear what I said. I hope she did. It was good for me to talk about it, too. We were all such a bloody mess. Us supporting each other was the only thing that held us together back then, I think. I’m so thankful for Hermione, Ginny, Ron, the kids._

_Ron, Merlin, mate. He really knows how to mess things up, sometimes. I just don’t want to fight anymore. It’s not worth it. Fighting amongst ourselves, over some House Rivalry and differences we all had in school, and it’s trivial now. Especially when every day I look at people trying to be the next Voldemort, or Grindelwald. People who sympathise with the Death Eaters and Voldemort are still out there. We’ve got special units dedicated to weeding those out and making sure justice is served. It’s not even that. It’s the everyday criminals. Those that steal things, abuse their kids, kill people, and frighten the masses. That’s what I have to deal with every day. I know Ron doesn’t think it’s trivial and that’s fine. It really is. But there’s more than that, now, a bigger picture. The world needs to be safe for our kids. That can’t happen when we’re concentrating on what’s right in front of us. It’s just so tiring._

_HP_

* * *

 

_Kumbaya Experiment,_

_I can’t get over the Weasel and his little outburst. I was livid. I think I would’ve punched him in the face if my son hadn’t been there._

_But even more, I can’t believe the Weasel was actually right. I wanted to find Astoria. This was the best and first place to look. It conveniently took me out of the spotlight and allowed us all to have a vacation of sorts. When she wasn’t here… I was crushed. I didn’t know where else to look. There were also all these reports – complete drivel of course, but there were so many of them – about Astoria being unfaithful. I was so glad that Astoria showed up. That we talked. I just can’t believe that Astoria didn’t confide in me about how she was feeling. I had no idea…_

_I need to pay better attention._

_Draco Malfoy._


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the original chapter twenty five, but it has undergone some editing as of November 8, 2016

**Chapter Twenty Six**

They all sat down at the round table, Astoria included, when the food appeared for dinner.

“I’m glad you’re joining us for dinner, Astoria.” Hermione said. Astoria gave her a genuine smile and sipped some wine.

“Thank you. Me, too.” Silence reigned for a moment as they piled the food they wanted onto their plates. Then Harry looked over at Astoria, who was looking at her son trying to eat some sliced carrots with his hands with little success.

"So, what have you been up to, Astoria?" Harry asked around a mouthful of mashed potato in an attempt to make conversation. Astoria’s warm eyes moved from her son to Harry, smiling at the effort.

"There's an event called Fashion Week. I help make sure everything runs smoothly so I needed to be there for the duration. It was in Milan actually, so I spent most of my time away there."

"The Wizarding World has a Fashion Week?" Hermione asked, seeming genuinely interested. Astoria chuckled.

"Oh, no. It's completely muggle. But many people from the Wizarding World go to it since the clothes are so wonderful and interesting to look at. I have extensive experience with event planning, so I became involved with it after the war. All the witches and wizards who attend all wear pins so we may recognise one another. The pin is a lightning bolt, actually." Astoria said, with a self-conscious chuckle. Harry gave a booming laugh and shook his head, bemused.

"That's pretty cool. It went well then, I take it?" Ginny asked once Harry had stopped laughing. Astoria nodded, a smile gracing her features and making them softer, smoothing out the strain behind her eyes and in the skin of her forehead.

"Oh yes. Without any complications at all. What's that phrase...? Yes, without a hitch."

"So now that this Fashion Week is over, you'll be coming back to England?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I will be. I'll be returning with you all at the end of the week."

"Will you be joining Draco in our group sessions?" Hermione asked, looking at Astoria intently. She seemed genuinely curious as to what her answer would be. The strain was suddenly back in her eyes and she looked quickly down into her lap.

"I'm-I'm not quite sure, yet. I would like to speak to Miss Donnelly first before I make any decisions in that regard. I'd also like to speak with my husband about it. Think about it all, you know." Astoria said nervously, glancing at everyone in the table. She noticed Ron drumming his fingers on the table, neglecting his mostly full plate, and decided to concentrate on Hermione again.

"That's fair enough. I'd have questions for Laurel in your position, too." Hermione nodded and gave her a reassuring smile once Astoria's head came back up to look at the other woman.

"So, Astoria, where were you? This Fashion Week was only a week, right? Where were you after that?” Ron asked, pausing his percussive movements on the table and looking at her. There was something in his eyes that Astoria didn’t quite like. Some kind of mean determination.

"I don't want to talk about it." Astoria shook her head and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes; her hands were withdrawn into her lap and Draco’s arm was protectively around her. Draco was glaring at Ron. The look clearly said: _watch it._ Ron didn’t seem to notice as he’d turned his attention back to his food.

"No, I meant, why didn’t you join us in group therapy after this Fashion Week? All the other spouses have." Ron shoveled some food into his mouth.

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Mr. Weasley." Astoria’s voice became louder and more confident with her mounting anger and defensiveness.

"What's there to not want to talk about? The rest of us are doing it." Ron insisted. Hermione heaved a sigh and put her head in her hands.

"Ronald." That one word was suffused with so much exasperation that even Harry winced.

"What? We were all thinking it." Ron mumbled.

"The matter of whether or not I will be joining you in the group therapy is not a matter I will discuss with you before I'll speak with my husband about it." Astoria's time was icy, and both Draco and Scorpius looked over at her. They saw coldness in her eyes now.

"Fair enough. Though I'm sure we all want to know why-"

"Ron-"

"You decided to go away to Milan and France-"

"Mate-”

"Instead of going through the therapy like we have so far. Got some secrets, Astoria?" Ron taunted. Hermione's head whipped from her hands to look at him.

"Ronald! We are guests in Draco's home. You are being an arsehole and Molly taught you to behave better than this." Hermione said, covering Rose's ears. She looked across the table at the Malfoy family and saw that Draco was barely containing his own anger, and that Astoria was near tears. Scorpius was confused, looking between his parents.

"What? Don't you think it rather defeats the purpose of group therapy if we all brought our spouses but his somehow got out of it? Rather convenient, this Fashion Week." Ron leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Astoria stood, looking down at him.

"How dare you, Mr. Weasley. I did not lie about my work. I have my own reasons for not attending up to this point, and I'll thank you to stop with the prying questions. Your attitude is very much part of the reason I have think about it. Draco may feel as though he had to atone for the things he's already been proven not guilty of. I do not and I will not stand for this kind of unbecoming behaviour. As your wife pointed out, you are merely a guest. You're only embarrassing yourself, because, yes indeed I do have secrets, and my husband is the only one privy to them." Astoria turned to leave the dining hall, but Ron's voice called her back.

"What you're hiding can't be so bad; come on, we've all shared awful things with one another. Why is yours so horrible that you're so unwilling to commit to the therapy?" Astoria turned around and glanced at Draco. He shrugged.

"I've told them some of it."

"How much?"

"Not enough for what you want to do, but it's yours to tell anyway, if you want to." His grey eyes were storms as he pinned them on Ron. Astoria used wandless magic to push Ron’s chair back a few feet from the dining table. She moved in front of him before he realised what was happening.

“You really want to know? Fine. I was three months pregnant with my second child.  Lucius had become… unhinged. We didn’t want him around Scorpius anymore, so we told him so, and we went ballistic. He used the Cruciatus on us both. Do you want to know what happened to my child, Mr. Weasley? My unborn child?” Ron had gone pale at Astoria’s words. Apparently, he’d taken too long to respond, so Astoria slammed her hands on the arms of Ron’s chair. “Answer me!” Her voice echoed amongst the vaulted ceiling. Scorpius started sniffling and Ginny, knowing that Malfoy wouldn’t be able to calm Scorpius down due to his own anger, took Scorpius and murmured soothing words into his ear.

“What happened to your child?” He whispered, his eyes wide in the face of Astoria’s anger.

“I bled onto the stairs of the Manor. My unborn child’s life drained from me onto the stone steps as Lucius laughed and my husband lay prone, bleeding from the head from trying to protect me. So don’t you _dare_ belittle my family and what happened to us. Therapy is not a competition and I’ll thank you to remember that before you say more that you will come to regret.” And with that Astoria fled the room, Draco following her, calling her name. At the archway separating the dining hall from the main foyer, Draco turned to look at them all.

“You can be angry at me all you like, it’s nothing new. But my wife is off limits to your anger and stupidity. You’re to be gone by the morning.” He disappeared from the archway; you could still hear him calling Astoria’s name. Scorpius was snuffling against Ginny’s shoulder.

“Mummee? Mumme mad?” Hermione tossed a glare at her husband and moved to Ginny and Scorpius, leaning down so the boy could see her.

“You mum isn’t mad at you, love. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Why Mummee go ‘way?” He mumbled, his hands reaching for her. Hermione slid him out of Ginny’s arms and into her own.

“She’s not gone away, she’s just in her room with your dad.”

“She wif Dahdee?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Wanna go.”

“Okay, I’ll get Starry to-”

“No Starry. You.” Hermione cast a helpless look to Harry and Ginny. They both shrugged.

“Okay, Scorpius.” Hermione walked with him in the direction of the Family Wing. Scorpius pointed and Hermione followed his directions. She suddenly knew which door their room lay behind because she could hear their raised voices behind it.

“-doesn’t get to say things like that to you without consequences, Tori. I promise.” There was a confused pause and some shuffling, then Astoria’s voice could be heard in mid-sentence.

“-so awful, Draco? What did I do?” Astoria voice was tearful and her words were quickly swallowed by sobbing. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Harry coming toward her.

“I thought we could divide and conquer here. You talk to Astoria. I’ll talk to Malfoy. You shouldn’t do this on your own.” And with that, Harry knocked on the door. Draco answered it, only this time he didn’t try to hide his anger; his face was flushed with it. His anger calmed slightly when he saw Scorpius in Hermione’s arms.

“He wanted me to take him to you.” Hermione said absently, her attention drawn inside, where she could still hear Astoria sobbing. She could see a curled up figure in the bed, covered in the bedsheets, shaking uncontrollably. Scorpius reached out to his father and Draco automatically took him from Hermione, before casting a look at his wife. Harry stepped forward.

“Why don’t you and I go outside in the garden? Hermione and Astoria can have a talk. She’ll help, I swear.” Harry said. Draco glared at Harry for a very long moment before stalking off toward the double doors that led to the garden. Harry gave Hermione a glance before following in his wake. Hermione walked over the threshold and closed the door.

“Astoria?”

“Please leave.” Came the muffled voice from under the covers. Hermione took a few steps closer and sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Hermione murmured. Astoria sat up and glared at Hermione.

“I know very well that the altercation between _your_ -”

“I don’t mean that. I mean the miscarriage.” The anger in Astoria’s face abruptly disappeared, leaving another emotion in its place that Hermione couldn’t quite put a name to.

“I’m aware that it wasn’t.”

“No, you think that there was something you could have done, anything, in order to save your unborn child. Eaten healthier, exercised more, been able to avoid the curse that Lucius spelled you with. That you hadn’t been as weak as to bleed out. It wasn’t your fault.”

“What would _you_ know about such things? You have a lovely girl. And another child on the way. I envy you. I’m sorry but I envy you and Ginevra so, so much. It was a trial to even conceive Scorpius. Two long years. Then I nearly died in childbirth, and Scorpius too. And then I’m given this, this second opportunity, one I never thought I would have. I wanted to give Scorpius a sibling. I wanted to give Draco, and myself, another child. It failed so horribly!” Astoria hugged herself, trying to contain the emotions she felt. Hermione sat closer and started rubbing Astoria’s back in small circles.

“It took us nearly three to conceive Rose. We thought there was something wrong with us. We got into so many fights. Then my OBGYN realised something that I had in common with some of his other patients. We’d all suffered from the Cruciatus Curse before pregnancy. It doesn’t just cause you to seize and possibly break or dislocate bones from the force of those seizures. It hurts so much because the spell actually damages tissues, muscles, other things in the body too.”

“I never knew.” Astoria had calmed down enough to listen.

“We still don’t know how we’d conceived, really. The tissues and muscles in my pelvic area were severely damaged. The viable eggs couldn’t attach themselves inside and stay there. Luck, I suppose. But once I was pregnant my survival rate dropped drastically. I was on bedrest for my last three months. I was afraid to even move, most days. Any spot of blood and I had hysterics. I’d wondered: had I moved too much, had I eaten something off, had I stressed too much. And of course I was stressing too much. I know how you feel, really, I do. I am so sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that kind of cruelty, ever. But you need to start processing these emotions and thoughts and trying to figure out what they mean to and for you. You need to start talking to someone, Astoria. You. Did. Nothing. Wrong. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Hermione’s voice grew in ferocity.

“But, your husband-”

“Can be insensitive. We’ll be gone before the end of the day. You have my word. Like you said: place of peace. I understand that. If you can’t join us for the group therapy – and I understand why, if you can’t – you still really need to speak to someone.”

“I just feel so awful all the time.” Astoria whispered.

“You had something precious taken away from you. By someone that your son is supposed to look up to. Something like that just doesn’t go away, Astoria. When I’d realised that Bellatrix Lestrange may have been responsible for my issues with conceiving, I felt hopeless. Like even in death, the bitch still had the last laugh, you know?”

“It feels exactly like that with Lucius. He wasn’t around for our marriage, so he wasn’t involved that way, but just by doing that one thing it seemed like he just took control of a huge portion of my life.”

“You know how I got through it? I talked things through with my friends. I wrote a journal. I didn’t seek help, but now that I’m in the therapy, I can see how everyone is benefiting from it. And I think you would too, if you sought out help. You may hate me right now because Ron’s my husband, but I want you to know that you’re not alone. You have people to talk to, whenever.” Hermione got up to leave.

“Hermione. Thank you. For understanding. You have no idea how much-”

“I do. And we need to stick together. I’ll write you in about a week, and we’ll meet for coffee, okay?”

“Okay.” Hermione left the room and stormed off to find Ron.

* * *

 

“What is Granger saying to my wife, Potter?” Draco pinned the other man with a glare.

“She can empathise with Astoria, Draco. It took years for Hermione to conceive and she nearly miscarried a few times. We’re all worried, now that she’s pregnant again. Happy, but worried. She can talk to Astoria on a similar level. It’ll help her to know someone understands, since at the moment she’s struggling.” Harry murmured. Draco stopped walking.

“I read the letter you sent.”

“Did you read her response?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And… I don’t know. I don’t know how to help her. When Lucius attacked us, I felt powerless, helpless, a failure. We lost our child. But to her, it was _her_ child. It was a part of her, and then it wasn’t. It was gone. How in the name of Merlin do I help her with that?”

“Get her to see a therapist. If she thinks she can tough it out, she’s wrong. She needs support. And not just from her friends, not with this.” Draco scoffed.

“Her friends wouldn’t know the first thing about support.”

“Well that’s very sad. We’re here for her. Hermione. Ginny. Me. Whatever she needs.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone needs a system that works. We’ll try to be that system for her. Since we were Hermione’s support when she was struggling with her pregnancy. But it’s up to you to get her professional help.”

“Thank you. For owling Astoria.”

“Well, I know _you_ wouldn’t do it yourself. Too proud for that. You’d just soldier on. You can’t. Not with this shite. It’s not fair to you. Not fair to your kid. Look, we both know what it’s like to be put into this box. Of what we’re supposed to do, act, say, in order for everything to go the way someone else wants it to.

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Exactly. We know what it’s like. We can’t be that way for our kids. We can’t put them in boxes. We can’t repeat the last fifteen years. They need the freedom we didn’t get. They need the peace we didn’t get. And we can’t give them those things unless we sort our shit out,” Harry finished, glancing up to see Hermione on the second floor balcony, giving them both a wave. “Go back to your wife. I think I may need to referee a shouting match.” Harry walked hurriedly into the Château, leaving Draco and Scorpius to walk in his wake.  


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

“So welcome back everyone! I’m sure you had a pleasant week off – why don’t you tell me about your time away?” Laurel asked everyone at large. She noticed immediately that none of the couples had brought their children.

“It was good, until it wasn’t.” Ginny offered first.

“Yeah, we found some common ground.” Harry added.

“We met Astoria, as well. She was very nice.” Hermione said.

“Yeah, it was a great bloody time.” Ron muttered.

“Oh yeah, great time.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Okay… why don’t we start with that? Who would like to tell me about this past week? Hermione, why don’t you start, please.” Laurel looked around the group.

“Uh… initially it was strange. In my head, I knew that it wasn’t the Manor – it looked very different – but I couldn’t help this feeling of paranoia that came over me sometimes? Like I was expecting a fight, or to have to defend myself? Suffice it to say I didn’t sleep very well.”

“A subconscious fight or flight response.” Laurel confirmed. Hermione nodded.

“Yes, and I know it seems really silly. Being confronted by all the magic, too – I mean, Ron and I use magic at our house for various things, but I still like doing some things the muggle way, like the dishes, or cooking, or setting the table, you know? Seeing all of that just… happen reminded me of the difference between someone who grew up around magic and someone who didn’t.”

“What was that like?” Laurel asked. Hermione blew out a huge gust of air.

“It just reminded me of what school was like. Initially school was awful, because we had the House Rivalry, and then there was that divide between muggles and non-muggles. For example, you probably learned the basics of potions before you even got to Hogwarts.” Hermione aimed the question at Draco.

“Yes. My father demanded it of me.”

“See, I hadn’t even known about any of these things. I felt really underprepared. I know that all the teachers thought we were on what was essentially even footing, but we weren’t. I had to work twice as hard, twice as long, to understand concepts that others had learned easily. I’m ‘The Brightest Witch of Our Age’ through hard work – none of it came easy.”

“I’m glad you’re in the position to open up about this.” Laurel smiled.

“Well it’s kind of now or never, right? And then because I had taken all this time to actually learn about the world I was now suddenly a part of, I was made fun of because I always – or nearly always – had the answer. There was no way to avoid being ostracised. Then there was the name calling. And the condescension because they knew sayings and expressions that I had no idea what they meant. So it was hard. It felt very isolating.”

“I can see how you would feel that way. Harry, did you feel this way too?”

“Sometimes. But I didn’t face as much of it as Hermione did. I’m half-blood so that kind of automatically excluded me from some of the name calling. Being the ‘Chosen One’ excluded me from most anything else. Hermione faced the brunt of it, but I felt isolated sometimes, since people expected me to know the same things they did but they forgot that I was raised as a muggle.” Hermione was nodding, agreeing with Harry.

“The name calling was the worst, though. ‘Mudblood’… even just saying the name leaves a bad taste in my mouth. At first, I had no idea what it meant, only that it was bad. Then someone told me where it came from. Being called something that Death Eaters from the first war called muggleborns was just awful.” Hermione was avoiding looking at anyone, but Ron glared right at Draco, who bristled.

“Oi, mate, I apologised to her for my part in this already. There’s no need to shoot daggers at me.”

“I just need to say this now, I can’t keep it in anymore. I know we’ve already spoken about most of this Draco.” Hermione said.

“I know.”

“You also told me that I couldn’t hold back. I have been.”

“I did.” Hermione swiped at her eyes and turned to the group.

“Draco’s already apologised and I’ve forgiven him for his actions as a child. But the feelings, the words… those don’t just magically go away, you know?” Hermione turned to Laurel.

“They do stay with you.” Laurel agreed.

“It just seemed so terribly unfair. The teachers didn’t really notice all of the divides that they’ve caused by having the Houses, by having muggleborns just thrown into that world without so much as a helping hand other than getting into Diagon Alley to get the books and robes and such. It felt half-arsed. Since I’ve graduated I’ve actually written to McGonagall repeatedly to tell her to get rid of the House system completely or to create more inter-House activities. I’ll be visiting soon to see what’s been implemented.”  

“Getting rid of the Houses? You can’t change centuries of tradition.” Draco said, affronted as he looked at Hermione. She looked fiercely back.

“Yes, yes we can. It’s because of this tradition that a lot of people – including myself – didn’t feel safe in the school. We were targets. It’s because of this tradition that Death Eaters were so easily cultivated: ‘look, they’re different, you’re even in different Houses, so that must tell you something, join us’. This separation of Houses and traits makes for a very competitive and dangerous environment. For sport, sure, it can be healthy. But in the day to day? Not so much. So yeah, the whole thing was very difficult in school.”

“So what happened during the rest of your time at the Château?” No one wanted to speak. Ron scoffed, and so did Draco.

“Why don’t you tell us, Ron?” Ron looked at Hermione, who shook her head.

“You’re the one that got us kicked out days before we were supposed to leave. Why don’t you tell Laurel what happened?” Hermione looked back at Ron. When it was clear that Hermione wouldn’t budge and no one else was forthcoming, Ron sighed.

“Alright. It started out well, I s’pose? Bit awkward, because we were in unknown territory. But then it wasn’t so great. Hermione was stressed and not talking to me, preferring to yell or not say anything at all, which made me not talk to her either. Which no doubt stressed her out more and stressed me out because I didn’t know what was wrong. Instead of talking to Hermione about it I took out my frustrations and my fears out on other people. I said that Malfoy was afraid that Astoria was cheating, so that’s part of why we were joining Malfoy in bloody France. That he wanted to find her, and that he thought she’d be at the Château. I might have been right, but it was inappropriate. I wasn’t thinking about that at the time. I just couldn’t deal with what I was feeling. I apologised the next day and we had a Quidditch match, and that went well. But then by that day his wife had arrived. I just got so angry and self-righteous.”

“Because everyone else had been in the therapy and she hadn’t been.” Laurel surmised. Ron nodded.

“Yeah. We’ve all had our bad moments in therapy, but yet Astoria hadn’t experienced it at all. I didn’t feel like it had been fair. Like the whole Malfoy superiority bull that had been there at school was here too, and I couldn’t take it.”

“I can assure you that I did not play favourites of any kind. Astoria had her reasons for not participating in the therapy. I told you that we could stop if it wasn’t helpful.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t what I was thinking at the time. I kept picking at it and I forced Astoria into sharing about her miscarriage.”

“And I kicked them out a few days early. We’re still in France, actually. We’ll be returning to England tomorrow.” Draco murmured.

“I sent Astoria an apology.” Ron said, “I am sorry about that, I swear. I didn’t want to cause pain like that. But it-we were in a Malfoy house. That made things hard. I think we were all being reminded about our time at the Manor. It’s his family’s fault that we had so many problems having a child.” Ron pointed at Draco, but Hermione pushed his arm back down.

“She got the letter. She is trying to think of a response.”

“Look, Ron, Draco isn’t at fault for what happened at the Manor.”

“What do you mean? He was _right there_ and didn’t do a thing! His family hurt you!”

“What was he supposed to do Ron? There was no way he could get away with helping me against his aunt, or not identifying us, without getting in trouble or getting killed himself. I’ve accepted that. And you know what? I went into that house expecting not to survive. I’d made my peace with that the moment the Snatchers grabbed us. To me, as long as they didn’t identify Harry, then I could live – or not – with the rest.” Hermione blurted. Ron stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“Hermione… wha-? Why would you think that?”

“Come on, Ronald. We were captured by Snatchers, who worked with the Death Eaters, who hate muggleborns, and I am a muggleborn. I knew I wouldn’t survive unless something miraculous happened, or we had outside help.”

“Well we didn’t have outside help, did we?” Ron glared at Malfoy.

“Look, Weasley, your wife’s right. I couldn’t do anything without getting tortured or killed, or both. I couldn’t do anything that night. I wanted to, I’ll swear by anything you want. But I didn’t see a way to.”

“You didn’t need to identify us!”

“Yes, I did! You’d been in the _Prophet_ , both of you. My father knew who you were. Later, even aunt Bella was ranting about how you’d thwarted her and her ilk in our fifth year in the Department of Mysteries. I had to identify you. The only one I knew I could get away with not identifying, was Potter. So I did what I could.”

“And that was all I expected. Look, Ron, if Harry had been identified, we would have lost that day. Voldemort would have won, and we’d be dead anyway. Harry wasn’t ready to face Voldemort. We hadn’t found all the Horcruxes.”

“I know that.” Ron huffed.

“Then you know that Harry had to be the one to survive. He _had_ to. I’d hoped that the Stinging Jinx would hold until he could find a way to escape. It was the only thing I could think of whilst we were being chased down by Snatchers like animals.” Hermione huffed.

“So what, you-you were okay with the fact that you were going to be tortured?” Ron asked incredulously. Hermione laughed, but not like it was funny.

“No, Ron, I wasn’t _okay_ with it. But I was resigned to the fact that it would happen. My wandless magic was good, but it wouldn’t have been up to snuff against experienced wizards and witches who had wands, so I knew I couldn’t fight my way out. We didn’t know about Aberforth or Dobby, so I wasn’t wishing for anything to swoop down and save us. I’d… made my peace with it. I had a lot of time to think about it all at Shell Cottage. In the middle of things, I hadn’t thought it all out like I’m telling you now, it was more of a subconscious thing. But afterward, I thought about it and realised that’s what I’d done.”

“You three were incredibly lucky.” Laurel murmured. Harry was nodding. Ginny looked stricken and was holding Harry’s hand tightly.

“We were. I had no idea that talking into that shard of mirror would do anything at all, but I had to do something. I think I realised, as Hermione did, that we were in a dire situation. If I were identified and Voldemort called, and he killed me, I don’t know if, in that space and time, I would have come back, because at the time I wouldn’t have been willing to die. I didn’t have all the information then that I did later on at the school with Snape’s memories. So I wouldn’t have come back. Even if by some fluke I was given the opportunity to come back, Voldemort still had some of his Horcruxes. He would have still been invincible. He would have won. So I’m so glad that talking into that mirror saved us.”

“So you just accept the fact that you would have been tortured. Even knowing what you do now.” Ron was looking at Hermione closely.

“Ron I didn’t know then that me being tortured would cause our issues with having kids. What was I supposed to do? The impact of the Cruciatus Curse wasn’t common knowledge until a few years ago. I couldn’t have fought back against Bellatrix, not and win.”

“Hold on. Astoria told me a bit of what you told her when I was with Potter. Are you saying that the Cruciatus made you unable to have children?” Draco looked shocked.

“Why don’t you tell him about the study, Hermione.” Laurel prompted.

“Okay. Ron and I started trying, without success. We went to numerous healers and muggle doctors and they were all mystified. They said that we were both healthy and there was no reason why I shouldn’t be pregnant. After a year and a half, we saw a different healer. He was one of the best in Trauma at St. Mungo’s, and he’d recently rotated to pre and post-natal care. He started asking us all of these questions that the other doctors hadn’t asked – hadn’t thought to ask. He asked about the injuries we’d sustained in the war. When I said I’d been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, he asked me where the curse had been concentrated on, and it had been my chest and lower torso. He did the magical equivalent of an X-Ray and checked my chest, and my heart and lungs were completely fine. Then he checked my lower torso and found that there was scarring in the pelvic and uterine areas. The walls that the fertilised egg would attach to were… weak and damaged. He then asked if he could conduct a study with me and five other women, and ask doctors around the world to do the same if they notice the same abnormalities.”

“So he’d noticed a pattern.” Laurel prompted.

“Yes. It was lucky, because he’d treated these women in Trauma, and then also later on when they were trying to get pregnant and having problems. So the Cruciatus can cause bone fractures, concussions, dislocations, just because you’re thrashing about. But what we didn’t know until the study was conducted was that it can also damage important tissues and muscles.”

“Merlin’s Beard… no wonder you found it difficult to be at the Château.”

“You had no idea. It was up to me to say and I didn’t. At any rate, I knew that Astoria would probably be blaming herself for the miscarriage. If I could have dodged the curse, been stronger, been faster, something. It had been so recent, too. So I wanted to help her because I knew it wasn’t her fault.”

“She felt… better after you had spoken to her.”

“I got her thank you letter. It wasn’t necessary; I was happy to help. It’s a horrible feeling.”

“Hermione, I’m sorry. For not communicating with you. Getting into fights with our hosts. Not realising you were stressed out. We haven’t been talking since France and I want to fix that.” Ron looked at Hermione, his eyes pleading. Hermione gave him a smile and reached a hand out to cup his jaw.

“Hon I’m sorry too. Instead of telling you how I was feeling I just lashed out. It wasn’t fair.” Hermione pecked his lips, chaste. Ron grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles.  

“Why don’t we end here for today. There has been a lot of sharing and I am very pleased with the progress you’ve made. I’ll see you next week.”


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Chapter Twenty Eight**

"Mother! We're back!" Draco said from the receiving room as he, Astoria, and Scorpius all came through the floo connection they had between all their properties. He helped Scorpius brush the soot off, tickling him in the process. His wild laughs rebounded off the ceiling.

"Does this 'we' include Astoria? Oh, yes, I see it does. Welcome back, dear." Narcissa stood in the entryway to the receiving room, and crossed her arms. Astoria looked at Narcissa and realised that the older woman was unhappy. Unhappy with her.

"Draco, love, could you get Scorpius settled? I believe your mother and I need to have a chat." Draco looked over at his mother at Astoria's words, and nodded.

"Course. C'mon, Buddy. Let's go to your room. You can choose some toys to bring to the solarium." Draco hefted Scorpius into his arms and walked out of the room, pecking his mother on the cheek as he passed.

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy." Astoria fidgeted with the silver pendant that Draco had given her the first day of their courting: the charm depicted a snake, also in silver, curled around a thumbnail sized emerald.

"Astoria, I've told you years ago to dispense with the formalities. Just because I'm not particularly happy with you abandoning my son and grandson doesn't mean you have to revert to them to please me."

"Sorry, Narcissa. Force of habit."

"Can you explain to me why you saw fit to leave and son and grandson alone for nearly two months?"

"I-I had work."

"Which was only supposed to be for a few weeks. What else kept you away?"

"I… Draco was undergoing therapy. He was ready to do that. I wasn't. I'm still not, not really. I'm seeing Laurel later on today to discuss what observing a session would be like, but I'm really not ready to talk about my issues. At all."

"That is hardly a reason to run away. You should have at least told us where you were, kept in contact with us."

"It was so hard, Narcissa. Everywhere I looked… it was a reminder. Even being in this house makes my skin crawl and my stomach hurt. I lost a child, Narcissa. My child!" Astoria turned away from the matriarch to try and regain her composure. She pressed her hands to her face, her shoulders shuddering with the effort to not burst out crying. Gentle hands rested on her shoulders.

"Come on, darling. Let's go into the lounge." Narcissa conjured a handkerchief and pressed it into Astoria's hands. They went into the lounge, and Narcissa spelled it shut and placed silencing charms at the doors so no one could listen in.

"I'm-I'm so-sorry Narcissa." Astoria sobbed into the handkerchief. Narcissa sat beside her on the chaise lounge, hips touching, and put her arm around the younger woman.

"No matter, Astoria. Clearly you've been holding this in much longer than any of us thought you would. Or should, really. It's unhealthy, dear."

"I know that Draco and I have our own place. But we stay here because we know you want to spend as much time with Scorpius as possible. It was fine, it really was. The house is lovely."

"But you don't feel that way about it since the miscarriage." Narcissa confirmed. Astoria nodded, raising red-rimmed eyes to her mother in law.

"Exactly. I had nightmares, then I just couldn't sleep. I threw myself into my charities so I could work myself into exhaustion so I could sleep through the night. I refused to take Dreamless Sleep. But it still didn't help. Walking down those steps every morning… I could see the blood dripping, oozing as if it had just happened. It didn't matter that it had been magicked away I could still see it in here." Astoria jabbed a finger against her temple. Narcissa grabbed that hand and held it tightly in her own lap.

"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you see someone?"

"I wasn't ready to talk about it. I was still grieving so much. We'd wanted another child. I don't think either of us realised how much until after I miscarried. I was going to tell Draco that day that he was going to be a father again, and then it just… went away."

"So the first chance you got, you left." There was still a hint of disapproval in her tone and her eyes, but they were overridden by concern for her daughter-in-law.

"Yes. For my sanity and theirs. I knew that Draco hadn't been sleeping well, partly because I couldn't sleep. Whenever I held Scorpius, it felt like something was going to happen to him, and I needed to hide him away. I needed that time away. And when Draco didn't call, or send a letter, or floo me I decided to stay longer. I knew that Draco was ready for therapy, maybe not for what had happened to us, but the other things, during the war. I didn't want to mess that up by coming back and him having to look after me."

"Astoria, darling, Draco loves you. He would have been happy to do it. This is what a marriage is all about. You need to support each other. You needed your time away and I understand that. But the next time you flee the owlery, you need to tell us where you're going so that we aren't speculating as to what's happened to you like the press. We are not the press. We're your family. Are we understood?" Narcissa asked, eyebrow raised. Astoria nodded eagerly.

"Yes, Narcissa. Uh, there's something you should know, then. It started showing up a couple of weeks ago." Astoria bent down and rolled up her leggings of her right leg. Around her ankle and the foot, the veins that ran across the skin were dark, almost black.

"Oh Sweet Salazar. Gods, no. You have to tell Draco."

"Not today, Narcissa. I will tell him myself, soon. He needs to hear it from me."

"How long?"

"With something like this? No one knows. I could have years, still." Astoria shrugged.

"Promise me you'll tell him. Sooner, rather than later."

"I will."

* * *

"Miss Donnelly? May I come in?" Astoria peeked around the ajar door of Laurel's office.

"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy! Come on in please. Would you like some tea?"

"Just water, please. And call me Astoria. When people call me that I look for my mother-in-law."

"Not a problem. So, what are you looking to get out of observing one of the group sessions, Astoria?"

"I want to see how everyone interacts in this environment, and if it is any different from what occurred at the Château. I'm sure you've been apprised of the events that took place."

"Yes, I have. I am sorry you went through that. The events themselves and the behaviour presented to you in France."

"Thank you. That means a lot. I want to see how you help them, and think about if that would work for me."

"I treat everyone differently, depending on the situation I'm presented with. It might not be the most accurate representation of my abilities."

"That is fine. I really do just want to see how you handle things before I jump right in. I feel… anxious about this prospect, but I feel I owe it to my family to try and see if I am ready for therapy."

"That is very brave of you, Astoria."

"I don't think it is. I feel bloody terrified."

"All that means is that you care about the outcome. Which is a good outlook to have. How have you been sleeping since your miscarriage Astoria? This is not a session, this is out of genuine concern for your health."

"Not… fantastic. But I refuse to take potions."

"And that is most certainly your choice. I have a suggestion. Can you make a patronus?"

"Yes."

"Good. So right before you go to bed, I want you to focus on the memory you choose when you produce a patronus. With me so far?"

"Yes. I don't know where it's going though."

"I want you to let the feelings, the smells, and the sights fill you up so you are brimming with positive energy. Think of it as a cloak that settles over you and repels bad thoughts. Then I want you to breathe deeply. In for five seconds, out for five seconds. Do that until you feel calm and happy. So maybe do thirty repetitions of that breathing. And then I want you to try going to bed."

"Okay… I can try."

"It might not work the first time. Don't be discouraged. It takes work, but if you're willing to do the work, it will pay off."

"Okay. I'll try it. And observing?"

"Yes, I'll arrange a date, owl everyone and inform them that you will be observing as I do not want to surprise them. Not to worry. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss Astoria?" Astoria finished her water and stood.

"No. But thank you. For letting me observe and the advice. I'll try it." Astoria left. Laurel checked her appointment book and grabbed a sheaf of parchment.

She had some letters to write.

* * *

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_Please note that the next session with me will take place on 16 May 2008. Please also note that Astoria Malfoy will be in attendance to observe._

_See you then,_

_Healer Laurel Donnelly_

Ron stared at the letter for a moment, then turned his attention to the dinner he was making whilst Hermione rested. He tasted the sauce for the pasta he'd made and deemed it ready.

"Hermione! Dinner's ready!" He could hear his wife shifting about upstairs. Her soft footfalls soon reached him and her arms wrapped around him.

"Thanks for making dinner Ron."

"Of course, love. Look at the letter on the kitchen island."

"Oh we got a letter? Who from? Oh…" She took a moment to read, and then looked up at Ron's face of disapproval.

"Isn't this just another example?"

"Example of what, Ron?"

"She doesn't participate, and that's fine. Then she wants to participate, and that's fine too. But isn't this a bit too late? I mean we've been in group therapy for about three months now." Ron grumbled.

"It's never too late for therapy. And you were the one challenging her about why she wasn't in sessions with us to begin with. I'm not saying that to pick a fight, just saying the facts." Hermione held out her hands, palms facing him, as if to ward off any potential anger of defensiveness. Ron slumped.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. It's never too late for therapy. But maybe it is for the group one?"

"Ah. You're worried about the change in dynamic with someone else added to it aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. I'm pretty sure she hates me. I don't blame her for it, I was awful. So I doubt she'd want to be a part of our group sessions now, anyway."

"Well we'll just have to see what happens. I'm just pleased she's even considering it as an option."

"I suppose."

"Just, be mindful, yeah?"

"I'll try my best, you know that."

"Of course." Hermione sat down at the kitchen island. Rose was with Molly today, so they had time to themselves.

"She still hasn't responded to my apology letter, you know. It's making me twitchy not to hear anything back." When Ron sat across from her and set the pasta to fill itself into bowls and have the bowls float over to them, Hermione rested her hand on his own.

"Draco said that she was still thinking about it all. Just give her time."

"You're right. Speaking of time: one week, ultrasound. Are you excited?"

"Very, yes. I would love to hear the baby's heartbeat. It's such a soothing sound." Hermione rested her hands upon her now more noticeable baby bump.

"I remember you would fall asleep to a recording of it. How are you sleeping, lately? You'd said you were having trouble in France."

"Much better, actually. I slept through the night last night."

"Great to hear. Let's eat."

"Yes, I'm starved." The only sounds that could be heard was their eating and idle chatter after that.

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_The next meeting will take place on 16 May 2008, and I also would like to inform you that Astoria has decided to attend this one –if you didn't already know – in order to observe the session._

_See you there,_

_Healer Laurel Donnelly_

Draco read the short letter over, twice, before he narrowed his eyes and stood from his seat at his desk. He walked across the hall where Astoria's office was. She was reading from a thick sheaf of papers.

"Astoria?" She stopped reading and looked over her shoulder at his voice. She smiled.

"Hello Draco."

"You're observing the next session."

"I thought that was abundantly clear by the letter that Laurel would send. Is something wrong?" She was surprised when Draco started pacing.

"I-I'm not sure. On one hand, I think what you're doing is incredibly brave. That you're thinking about going ahead with this is really good. But on the other hand…." Draco trailed off.

"What? Tell me, please."

"I just don't know how the others will be toward you. We didn't really part on the best of terms. I do not want that to set you back in terms of seeking therapy of any kind, and it could if you have a negative experience when we meet next."

"This is just to see your healer in action. I might do individual sessions with her, but joining the group now seems… pointless, since you've been meeting for so long already. I just want to know what I'm getting into beforehand. I'd like your support." Astoria moved toward him and he held out his hands, which she took. He used his gentle grip to pull her toward him.

"That makes complete sense, Astoria. I'm proud of you – this is a huge step."

"Thanks, love." They embraced, and Astoria used the moment when Draco couldn't see her face to grimace.

If he only knew how much of a coward she really was.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

**_Chapter Twenty Nine_ **

_Journal,_

_Ron and I went to see our Healer today. About the baby. I was so incredibly nervous, as I’d been reading the night before and came across hysterical pregnancies. I'd had a bad dream about that last night. That I actually wasn't pregnant at all and that my body was just playing tricks on me. I woke up crying._

_So suffice it to day it's not been a great start. But when Healer Valen assured us that not only was it a very real pregnancy, but that the foetus was healthy for its development, we were more than pleased. I now have a recording of the baby's heartbeat, and I'm going to play it every night just before I go to sleep. It's comforting. We're going to leave the sex a secret, even from ourselves, for as long as we can. We knew as soon as we could with Rose, and we could prepare ahead of time, sure, but this time I want to be surprised. Something to look forward to._

_Not that I'm not looking forward to being pregnant again. I am. I feel lucky because nearly three years ago now this wasn't even a possibility for me. But now I've had one and have another on the way. But being pregnant, for me, will always be an at risk pregnancy as a result of the Cruciatus. It makes me nervous, how careful I have to be sometimes. It’s the nerves I’m not looking forward to._

_Things between Ron and I have improved. We're actually talking again, which is definitely a plus. He calmed me down when I nearly had a panic attack whilst Healer Valen was out of the room looking over the results. If we’re angry, or upset, or happy about something, we’ll talk about it rather than holding things in. That’s what was causing our problems at the Château, because we weren’t communicating with one another. So things are much better than they were, thank Merlin._

_Astoria is joining our next session, just to observe. I think that’s brave of her, and a good step toward getting help for herself. She definitely needs to be seeing someone. She’s got so much survivor’s guilt over losing her second child. It’s incredibly sad, when it wasn’t her fault. I hope that our next session somehow doesn’t put her off therapy. I don’t know how it would, but I just hope that she sees how earnest Laurel is she’s shown that it’s okay to see someone._

_HGW_

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I am such a happy guy right now. We just got back from the ultrasound. We have a healthy baby, whatever it is. Hermione wants to be surprised, and I think there’s something to that, too. So we agreed that we wouldn’t be told unless it were somehow absolutely necessary._

_Things are good again. We always have our rough spots, but we always smooth them over. So we’re talking, and discussing what we’re feeling and why, and cooperating. So things are great right now. Between that and the baby, I’m over the moon – I think that’s the right phrase._

_Malfoy’s wife is going to be at the next session. I don’t know how I feel about that. It feels like… an intrusion, somehow. Maybe because she wasn’t with us since the beginning? So it’s just strange, to suddenly have another person there while we’re spilling our private thoughts when they haven’t been there from the start. I’ve got my reservations about this, but let’s see how it goes._

_RW_

* * *

_Journal,_

_Gin and I took the kids to a Quidditch game. The works: meets with the team, private box, everything. Gin asked where the need to do this came from. I told her it was because we hadn’t treated ourselves to something like this in a while, and I wanted us to have fun after that whole France debacle. But that wasn’t the whole story._

_I saw James at the Château last week. He was looking at all the extravagance with wide eyes and awe and I felt… guilt. I mean, I have all of this money, even after I’ve donated it to more than a few charities (even some of Astoria’s, actually), and we don’t really do anything with it. We have a nice house, the kids never want for anything, but do we ever indulge? Yes, I suppose. Birthdays, anniversaries, other special occasions. But James’ awe at the Château tells me that we deprive him of something. I dunno. Maybe it’s because I had such a horrible time with the Dursleys and I was lucky to even be fed some nights, that I think a few looks of awe at a lovely house means we’re depriving him of something. But I also don’t want him to get a big head over everything and be rude. Money can do that. Being sheltered can do that. I don’t want him ending up like how Dudley was as a kid. Or how Malfoy was as a kid. Maybe I’ll talk it out with Ginny about this. I think I need to, because I feel barmy about this right now._

_HP_

* * *

_Journal,_

_So, I’m actually writing this down this time. The quill was just shouting at me, and I said what the hell. So here we are. It’s the strangest sensation, but it reminds me of how much I used to love actually writing in a journal._

_Harry took me and the boys to see a Quidditch game today – mum looked after Lily for us. It was nice, but Harry was a bit shifty when I asked him why the sudden decision to do this. He said he wanted us to have fun and we haven’t done something like this in a while. Both things were true. But my gut was telling me it was something else. I need to talk to him after the game. He kept looking at James with this odd expression on his face. Maybe that has something to do with it all._

_So I took a break in writing here to finish watching the game and go home. Then Harry and I had a talk. I had no idea that he felt that he was denying the children things. I didn’t think we were. I mean, sure, we live a pretty frugal life for the amount of money we have, but we give to charity and we do go on trips… wow, now I’m starting to feel paranoid about it. We don’t want our kids to get arrogant or have big egos. We’ve both met people like that, and we sure don’t want our own kids to be that way. The fact that Harry noticed some awe and surprise in James is a good thing, I think. It means he hasn’t seen everything, and can still be surprised. He’s not a jaded kid._

_At four, I hope not._

_Ginny Potter_

* * *

_Dear Kumbaya Experiment,_

_Can this session get here any more slowly? Astoria and I have been talking about what to expect since she signed on for this, and I don’t know how much clearer I can get with her about things. I just want this session to be over with._

_I’m worried about how things will go. I have a feeling that Laurel might ask some hard questions, and test us just to see how Astoria will react. Which in a way is good because it will gauge how for Astoria can be mentally pushed. On the other hand, it could be damaging for her first experience with therapy. I don’t know. I just don’t want her getting hurt. Let’s just see how this goes. Mother is going to take Scorpius for the day. We don’t want to bring Scorpius in case things don’t go… peacefully. Another thing I’ve noticed: Astoria’s been sleeping well lately. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but before bed she just sits there and breathes deeply, and she’s got the most serene smile on her face. There’s only been a few nightmares since we’ve returned, and that’s a massive improvement over a few a night. Thank the Gods._

_Draco Malfoy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only about three more chapters to this! Eeeek!!!


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Chapter Thirty**

"Hello, everyone. Welcome back. Okay, so what I wanted to do today was focus on school, since Hermione got us started off last meeting. I know we've talked it to death, but part of why you all feel the way you do today was influenced and cemented by things that happened to you whilst you were in school." Laurel looked around the room and saw that Astoria most notably looked quite nervous. Ron looked extremely reluctant, but he was gripping Hermione's hand and Laurel took that as a sign that the two were on good terms once more.

"So, Ginny. I'd like you to tell me the good things you took away from Hogwarts, and the bad things too."

"Why do I have to start…? Uh… bad things first, to end on a positive note, I suppose? I gained a massive amount of paranoia. My coping mechanism was just holding things in until I exploded. I have some trust issues, some abandonment issues – those are much better now than they were. School made me really… judgemental. I think this goes for everyone where we judge people based on the traits of their House, and we don't take into account that one person can have many traits, so there's that too."

"Very good start. Good things?"

"I gained some awesome friends, an illustrious Quidditch career. The things that happened at Hogwarts made me stronger – physically and mentally – even more than having six brothers ever did, if you can imagine. I learned about teamwork, and supporting one another. I also met my husband at school. I worried about him when he was in the field, but considering he defeated Voldemort – with help, he always makes me say – I never worried as much as I did during the war." Ginny concluded, looking over at Harry all smiles.

"Well, I did do it with help. All of you. By helping me find the Horcruxes, fighting with me, even leaving the castle and being out of the line of fire. All of that was helpful, so it's very true, Gin." Harry said, smiling right back at his wife. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah."

"So, Harry. Why don't we go with you next? Bad things and good things you took away from Hogwarts."

"Bad things… ugh but there's so many. Uh… having to fight my professors multiple times because they were parading as other people wasn't fun. Quirrell had Voldemort in the back of his head, and Mad-Eye Moody, well, he had turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr., yeah, not fun. Having constant nightmares, feeling like I had to look over my shoulder all the time – there's that paranoia you were talking about, Gin. Having Voldemort in my head, to the point when I sometimes didn't know where or who I was. Having to make Dumbledore drink that stupid potion to get the fake pendant that we thought was a Horcrux and listen to him beg and plead for me not to give him anymore of it. All the… responsibility felt crippling sometimes. The fame, too. I hated it. My friends being constantly in danger because of me. Watching people die." Harry trailed off, not knowing how else to encapsulate the worst parts of his time in school. Harry heard a tapping sound, and his head whipped around to locate the source. He noticed Ron tapping his foot on the floor, something he usually did when he felt uncomfortable.

"The good things?"

"Independence. Freedom from my relatives. Friends – who I considered family long before we actually all became in-laws. Knowledge about this other world that even beyond my wildest dreams I would have never believed existed. I found my place in the world, you know? I mean it didn't feel that way after the war or leading up to it, but I felt like I belonged. That was a great feeling because my relatives thought I was a freak. I met my lovely wife. The good definitely outweighs the bad, for sure." Harry smiled.

"Hermione, since you told us about the bad things from Hogwarts already last session, why don't you tell us about the good?"

"Okay. Most of it's what Harry said. Belonging, friends, family, this whole other world. Independence is huge. Being a woman was also not really cared about very much in the wizarding world unless your family is quite traditional. So sexism wasn't really present and that was also good, to be applauded and recognised – or the complete opposite – for your work, not your sex or gender. A support system, which was important. Being able to help people and beings. Strength. Being… valued, you know? Also, met my husband." Hermione sent Ron a wink, which he didn't seem to notice until Hermione touched his arm. She smoothed her hand down his arm, picking up on the tension springing from him.

"Draco? Why don't you go next?"

"Alright. Uh the bad. There were people who hated me on sight because I'm a Malfoy. However much I brushed that off it was a rejection and it hurt just like it would hurt anybody else. Assumptions were made about me – some that were true, some that weren't. Even when I was in school, much of the bad things were a result of my family name. The rejections, the rumours, being thought of a certain way because of the House I was in. There was a lot of… isolation. I was popular – at first – but that didn't last very long, especially once the family name was dragged through the dirt. It might seem trivial, but at the time going from having quite a few friends, or at least companionship, to virtually none at all was difficult. I was ostracised. Expectations were high. I was essentially set up for failure, even my success in school."

"Wouldn't your success in school be a good thing?" Laurel asked. Draco shook his head.

"It was never good enough when someone beat me in a class. I never minded the intellectual competition, because there wasn't much of it. So the fact the Granger beat me in some classes was motivation to do better – in that one aspect I couldn't care less that she was a muggleborn. But I knew my father would, the traditionalist that he was. So I concocted a lie about some jumped up Ravenclaw besting me. And it worked. Until my father got sick of it and went to the school to speak with Dumbledore, or McGonagall. I don't know how my father managed to find out the truth – I doubt either would have mentioned your name, Granger – but Father found out, came back home, and hit me with a Tickling Charm. Which usually doesn't do much, but intended, persistent use can lead to loss of bladder and bruised ribs. Both of which I'd had before my father stopped. I think at the time he was most displeased with the fact that I lied, more so than about who I lied about. I don't know. All I remember after that is Mother shouting at Father. He never did anything like that again."

"Draco, that's abuse – sorry, Miss Donnelly." Astoria gasped.

"That's fine, Astoria. She's right, Draco."

"I was fifteen. I didn't know what to do. My Mother handled it. It never happened again. I'll tell you about the good things, now. Confidence, competition, friends. An education that I can use to pursue a hobby I enjoy. Those are the things I think are good."

"Ron, your go."

"I'd rather not, Laurel. I think I've spoken about this at length." Ron's foot tapping increased; he held on to Hermione's hand and looked at no one.

"Ron, just a summary of the bad things would suffice. The aim of this is to have you consider all of the good things that came out of the bad, or happened along with the bad."

"Well, we all know my opinion on Malfoy, here. He and his family were the core cause of the majority of the bad things I felt while at school." Ron muttered. Draco rolled his eyes, glanced at Laurel, and then shifted his gaze back to Ron.

"Come on Weasley, tell me how you really feel." Draco goaded, challenged. He was sick of all the pussyfooting around. Ron stood, wrenching his arm out of his wife's grasp.

"I HATED YOU WHEN WE WERE AT SCHOOL! I don't think it stopped after that, either!"

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, shocked at his yelling. He never raised his voice. Ever.

"What? Every time I look at you, every time I look at Bill, my father, all I see is something that he or his family is responsible for! Whenever Katie Bell comes over to hang out with George, all I think is that he still hasn't apologised to her for nearly killing her, or making her go insane. If he hadn't let those sodding Death Eaters into Hogwarts during our sixth year, Bill wouldn't have almost died. He's lucky he's not a werewolf. Still no sorry for that. Still no sorry coming to me, from poisoning me with that fucking mead. Still no sorry to you, who he made fun of and-and made you out to be lesser, Hermione."

"Excuse me I _have_ apologised for that!" Draco interrupted, but Ron overrode him.

"No apology to my family, who you've insulted to the moon and back for being less than pure. So what if my family doesn't follow tradition? Sod you and your bloody tradition, because the Scared Twenty Eight is more like the Barmy and Broken Twenty Eight now, eh? The traditions are utter bollocks. Tradition has done nothing but cock things up hasn't it! I bloody hated your holier than thou attitude in school, as if you were better and my family should do damn well to remember that. Cause look at where you ended up? Voldemort was living at your house! You were given a suicide mission! Had Harry not saved your ungrateful arse, you'd have gone to Azkaban! So how dare you say that your pure, traditional ways are better? How dare you." His voice cracking, Ron sat down, grabbing Hermione's hand as if it were a lifeline. His chest ballooned and deflated rapidly with his effort to calm himself down.

"Very well said, Ron. I believe you have captured your feelings accurately. Draco?" Laurell asked, trying to guide the conversation toward him. But Draco's eyes were unfocussed, and didn't respond to his name. Harry, who sat beside him, nudged him sharply.

"Oi, Potter!"

"The ball's in your court, now." Harry murmured.

"What does that even mean?" Draco's eyebrows scrunched and met in the middle in his confusion.

"It's your turn!" At Harry's words, Draco focused on Ron and realised the effort it was talking the ginger haired man not to leap across the room and strangle him.

"Apologies, I am trying to formulate a response. I don't know where to start." Draco attempted to say calmly, though he probably failed.

"Yes, my family failed in numerous ways. I don't think any family is perfect, but mine is more damaged, more monstrous, than most. Astoria and I do not adhere to many of the old ways, much to the dismay of our parents on both sides. We've found that we cannot raise our son on those beliefs, not and still look our son in the eyes. We've seen what such evangelical belief can do to someone."

"What, and you weren't evangelical in your beliefs? You tried to kill people!" Ron yelled back.

"I know, Weasley! I know! You don't think that's all I heard after my trial? That I was Death Eater scum and that I'd gotten off easy, that I hadn't changed, that I deserved life in Azkaban just like my father-"

"That's just it, isn't it Malfoy? He didn't _do_ life in Azkaban - he went free, you all do before your time."

"My father went crazy and suicidal! It wasn't something he engineered so he could get out of that wretched place sooner; he was sick. And we all suffered for it! Scorpius would've had a brother or sister but that was taken away from us! My father's the one that's the monster!"

"You're no better, not when you try to kill people!"

"I wish I'd gotten Azkaban, okay? At my trial, I pled guilty to all the charges, and still went free. I fled to France, to the very château you stayed at, because I couldn't face all the people saying that I deserved Azkaban, all the letters I got from people I didn't even know saying I was scum and would never amount to anything, all the Howlers that wished for my death and worse. I went to that trial expecting to get incarcerated for life."

"Is that what you thought you deserved?" Laurel hesitantly ventured. Draco let out a huge, shaky sigh and sat back down.

"Yes. When I tortured someone, it was because the underlying threat was if I didn't, my parents would be killed. But I still tortured them. I still took the Dark Mark, although I did it out of fear and wanting to please my father. I still tried to kill Dumbledore, because I felt as though I had no choices. I still let Death Eaters into the school, and they defiled what had become a home for so many. I still cursed Katie Bell, and poisoned you, Ronald, and I did it out of desperation because I didn't want to have to look at the greatest wizard of all time and watch the life leave his eyes. Yeah, I did all those things. So yes, I think, even now, that I deserve life in Azkaban. I haven't given any apologies before now because I'm a coward. I didn't think my apologies would be accepted - you know, Death Eater scum and all - so I didn't understand why I should bother. I sat day in, day out at that château for nearly a year after my trial, wondering why I didn't just end it. Would've solved a lot of people's problems. Coward's way out, again." Draco murmured. Astoria stared at her husband, and spoke for the first time since in the session.

"You never told me any of this." She whispered. Draco turned to her, and the anguish in his eyes made her chest tighten.

"When we started courting, you found out I had the panic attacks. You were so… out of sorts from that, and so I wanted to save you from the rest of it. Besides, since we started courting, I had been much better. Those… bad thoughts-"

"Draco, the thoughts were suicidal!" Astoria cried. Draco shifted in his seat.

"Yes, but I hadn't had those sorts of thoughts since I'd left the Château after that first year. I didn't think that was something you needed to know."

"Well… since we're being honest. I should tell you something. I've felt bad the last few weeks about not telling you. But, like how you were with me whilst we were courting, I was doing the same with you." Astoria lifted her trouser covered leg and rested it on his lap. She rolled up the hem a few inches to expose her foot and ankle. The veins just under the skin were darker. Draco's hands shook as he delicately rested them on her ankle, as if afraid she would break at the slightest touch.

"The blood malediction? When?"

"A week before we came home. I'm so sorry I didn't say anything Draco."

"No, no, it's fine. We'll talk about this at home, Astoria, okay?"

"Yeah, how about we get back to regularly scheduled programming, hey?' Ron drawled. Draco stood and stalked over to Ron's chair. Ron stood once more, so that the two men faced each other.

"I just discovered that my wife is facing a certain early death from a blood curse that has no cure, but yes, let's get back to it. You were talking about not receiving an apology from me, right? Well let me give you one – I am sorry, Ronald Weasley, for poisoning you. I am sorry for all the names I called you and your family when I was a bigoted arrogant little shit. I am sorry for letting the Death Eaters into the school and for one of them mauling your brother. I am sorry, because I am trying to be a better person for my wife, our son, for my family, and for myself! I am sorry for anything else I could have done to you to make your life miserable, Weasley. I. Am. Sorry!" Draco shouted, releasing a buildup in his chest he didn't know he'd had. His voice cracked. Before he knew it, Ron had reared his arm back and let loose a punch-

That Harry blocked by locking his arms around Ron's chest from behind and pulling him back a few steps. Ron flailed.

"You are such an insincere, ungrateful little-" Harry yanked Ron back another few feet and got in front of him, impeding Ron's way to Draco, who was standing there, paler than normal and trembling.

"Ron, outside, now."

"Harry, get the fuck away from me!"

"Ron, please." Hermione's voice added to the din.

"I was sincere Weasley! That was sincere! How dare you assume otherwise!" Draco suddenly needed to sit down as Ron was pushed outside by Harry and followed by Hermione. Draco placed his head between his knees and tried breathing the way Granger had shown him all those weeks ago. A hand gently rested on his back and moved in soothing circles.

"It's okay. You're okay, Draco." When Draco could breathe again, he sat up and wrapped his arms around his wife. He buried his face in the nook between shoulder and neck and inhaled the scent of her perfume that she always wore.

"I wish it were, Astoria. But it's not." Astoria could feel the wet tracks dripping down onto her chest from where Draco's head rested. Astoria looked over at Laurel.

"I assume this session is over? I'd like to take Draco home." Ginny, who hadn't left to follow Harry, Ron or Hermione because it would have been too many people, looked to their therapist. For the first time in their eleven weeks, she could see the disappointment, the exhaustion, in the woman's eyes.

"Yes. Go home, all of you. We're done here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, please don't hurt me for this chapter, haha! A lot of feels in this one. There are only going to be two, count'em, TWO more chapters! I can't believe it. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. You are all absolutely amazing.


	32. Chapter Thirty One

**Chapter Thirty One**

_Harry,_

_Could you please come and talk to Ron? He's been doing long hours at the shop, coming home smelling like alcohol sometimes. I've tried talking to him since the therapy session a few days ago but he just avoids me. I'm worried…_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Hermione_

_Course. I'll go over now. I'll let you know how it goes._

_Love,_

_Harry_

* * *

_Hermione,_

_I'm going to take him to my place. Ginny is going to come and help you with Rose. She's going to bring James and Albus, and Molly is going to take Lily. Everything will be fine._

_Harry_

* * *

_Harry??_

_What's going on with Ron!?_

_HGW_

* * *

_Mione,_

_Meet at the Hog's Head tomorrow evening. We'll talk._

_Love,_

_Harry_

* * *

"Ron I was so worried!" Hermione rushed forward and enveloped her husband in a tight embrace. When she leaned back to take a look at him, he gave her a shadow of a smile from a pale, tired face.

"Hi love. Sorry about the scare. Everything is fine now, not to worry." They all sat down. Since it was a weekday, the pub was relatively empty.

"Okay, we need to talk about that session and where we're going from here." Harry said, leaning on the table, hands cradling a Butterbeer.

"I can't continue. I've already written the letter, I'm going to send it tomorrow." Hermione stated. Ginny gaped.

"Really? But you'd finally become comfortable talking in sessions!" Ginny exclaimed. Hermione nodded ruefully.

"Yes but my health is much more important at the moment. I can't have that kind of stress right now."

"I'm sorry love. All my fault." Ron nursed his glass of water. Hermione shook her head, frizzy hair flying everywhere.

"No, no. I just don't think you were prepared to hear an apology from him, that's all. It caught you - understandably - off guard. I don't blame you for that."

"I really think he was sincere Ron." Harry added.

"So what now I should just forgive him? For all the awful things he's done to me and my family. No. Nuh-uh."

"We don't expect anything like that Ron. It's a lot of hurt to forgive." Ginny said.

“I think that if you’d had individual therapy beforehand to help you with those feelings, things in the group wouldn’t have been so… tense, you know?  It’s a lot to process all at once.” Harry said.

“Yeah, it was. I’m sorry I went back to drinking, Hermione. I just couldn’t figure out how to think about all of this. I just needed to forget it all for a bit.” Ron rested his head in his hands. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Hey, you’re fine now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I got to the shop and he’d been passed out in the office. He was breathing but wouldn’t wake. I got him to our place and finally got him awake and hydrated. He’s fine, Hermione.” Harry reassured.

“You should go to a meeting, Ron.” Hermione turned from Harry to her husband, concern etched into her features.

“I will. Today.”

“Good.”

“I can’t do the sessions anymore, either.” Ron shook his head.

“I think that’s a good choice.” Ginny said, nodding.

“Well, if you two aren’t doing it, and I doubt Malfoy will after this, there’s really no point, is there?” Harry said as he looked to his wife, who was also shaking her head.

“We should send her a letter, too.”

“Yeah. I’ll put one together from the both of us.”

“I feel so bad for Laurel though. She was really trying.” Hermione sipped at her own water.

“She was. But she did say to tell her when it wasn’t healthy anymore. I think we’ve passed that threshold.” Ginny sighed.

“Yeah, we have. Since we’re here, we might as well eat, yeah?” Harry called over a passing waitress and they all glanced at menus before deciding what they wanted.

* * *

 

“Draco, I don’t think you should go to the group sessions anymore.” Astoria and Draco lay in bed, Astoria draped over him as he glided one of his hands up and down her bare back.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me about the curse? That’s what I don’t understand.” Draco murmured, looking up at the ceiling.

“I was still taking my time away. I was getting used to the idea myself, you know. We were hoping that it would skip a generation this time around. My parents don’t even know. The only people that do are your mother, you, and your therapy group. I don’t like thinking about my more imminent death, Draco. I didn’t want to worry you love.” Astoria kissed his chin, as it was what she could reach when he was looking away from her. He sighed.

“How can I be mad at you? I don’t talk to you – or anyone, really – about that first year after my trial. So if you needed that time to come to terms with the curse, then that I do understand.”

“Please, please, don’t do anymore sessions.” Astoria pleaded, turning the attention back to the subject at hand.

“Astoria? I thought-”

“Look, it’s not working. I know with therapy you deal with the hard stuff and you feel worse before you feel better, but I don’t think what happened last week helped anyone. That wasn’t healthy. Please, write a letter to Laurel. Please.” Astoria’s head raised and lowered on Draco’s chest as he sighed.

“Yes. I’ll send her an owl. So, there’s no cure for the malediction?”

“None has been found yet. It’ll be okay. Draco?” Astoria closed her eyes and took a deep breath, burrowing closer to Draco.

“Yes?”

“You’ll send that letter, right?”

“I will. Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the penultimate chapter is here! I can't believe that the next chapter is the last one. I was thinking, though, of having a story centered on the therapist though. Let me know what you think!


	33. Thirty Two

**Chapter Thirty Two**

 

Laurel sat at her desk in her office, and realised that the secretary in the waiting room had dropped off mail for her. Upon looking at the five names that stared up at her from folded parchment, she couldn’t help the flutter of nervousness in her stomach as she recalled that session over a week ago. It was with some trepidation that she opened the first one.

_Dear Healer Laurel Donnelly,_

_It is with regret that I inform you that I can no longer participate in these therapy sessions. They have gotten to the point where they are too stressful for me to abide and stress in my current state is not healthy at all. In order for my pregnancy to be less at risk I can’t be under any additional stress, and this would qualify as such._

_I just wanted to say thank you for allowing me the space and time to speak about things that were hard for me to speak about. I never felt pressured into speaking, and you attempted to provide a safe and accepting environment. That’s all I could have ever wanted in a therapist, so I wanted to thank you for that, and to ensure you that my discontinuation of sessions is in no way a reflection or a result of your skills as a Healer. Keep doing what you do – you’re amazing._

_Hermione Granger-Weasley._

* * *

_Dear Healer Donnelly,_

_I am writing to tell you that Ginny and I no longer think that attending these therapy sessions will be useful. We are more than pleased with you as a therapist, but the environment has grown quite hostile – through no intentional fault of your own – and it is no longer welcoming to us. We feel that as a group we have gone as far as we can with you, but would like to retain your services for individual and couples therapy when we require it. Please let us know if this is possible._

_Warmest Regards and Best Wishes,_

_Harry and Ginny Potter._

* * *

_Dear Miss Donnelly,_

_I’d always known that having Malfoy and I in the same room was a mistake. We never could get along and I never expected that to change. So maybe I was setting myself up to self-destruct because he was around and I wasn’t optimistic. You helped me get over some of my issues and I want to say thank you for that._

_But I’m done. I can’t be in the same room as Malfoy, there’s way too much anger there that I think I have to deal with by myself first, which is where I think the problem here stemmed from. I’m sorry but I just can’t._

_All the best,_

_Ron Weasley._

* * *

_Dear Healer Donnelly,_

_After our explosive session last week, I took some time to reconsider the effectiveness of the therapy. I have decided I will no longer be attending the sessions. I no longer think they will work, considering how detrimental the last session was. I was a Death Eater, and I bullied people when I was in Hogwarts relentlessly. This makes it difficult for people to see me as a husband, father, and businessman. I have tried to move beyond what happened in the past and apologise for it, but it has, understandably, not been received very well. It is best if I stop with the group sessions and continue our individual ones when needed. Please let me know if this agreement is acceptable._

_I wish to offer my thanks for your work with me, and for the advice you gave Astoria. She’s been sleeping better since, and we both appreciate that._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy._

Laurel sighed and collected all of the letters, placing them in a file along with her other notes and observations. She slipped a few sheets of parchment – this time with the St. Mungo’s letterhead – and started to write.

 

Written Report “Kumbaya Experiment”

 

All clients involved with the endeavour of the group therapy experiment did achieve some progress:

Ronald Weasley – made some progress in terms of realising he had depression, and that it was not normal. Was able to reconcile some of the destructive feelings he had toward Mr. Malfoy, with his wife’s help. He was able to express and reconcile feelings of inadequacy because he was the youngest boy in a large family and never had anything that was his and his alone. He did not feel like he was valued, and his family was not valued in higher wizarding circles due to their lack of traditionalism, which labelled them as blood traitors. He accepts that people can change, but was unable to fully reconcile the knowledge and feelings unfortunately, and as a result still harbours much anger toward Mr. Malfoy. In part this is due to these feelings being cultivated from a young age from his parents and the school, and compounded by his depression and PTSD later on in life.

Hermione Granger-Weasley made fantastic progress, particularly near the end of the sessions. Was holding back much throughout the experiment, more so because she was afraid of hurting other people through her words. She made progress in regards to her parents and feeling lost with how her relationship with them had changed due to her heroism. She managed to have a breakthrough in several areas closer to the end of the experiment: with her feelings of inadequacy in the wizarding world, the realisation that she had, in fact, resigned herself to her death during the war, and the feelings of isolation she felt in school. All of these areas stemmed in some way from muggleborn, and clearly there was residual resentment involved and present from her time in school. She faced much adversity and overcame it. 

Draco Malfoy made progress in some areas. He knows how to anticipate and work through his panic attacks. He faced some animosity within the group, which prompted the main focus of this experiment; how to overcome such animosity in others to work as a group and help one another heal. This was not as successful as the personal breakthroughs that each client had. Draco had started to get over his attitude about everyone disliking him on sight, and that he had things to contribute. He was able to be very vulnerable in speaking about his father and the potential abuse he suffered, and the jealousy he experienced in school when confronted with the less regimented ways of his other classmates. He was unable to reconcile with the loss of his second child due to its recent occurrence.

Harry Potter seemed to make the most consistent progress throughout. Starting with the initial sessions, he seemed to be the peaceable one, trying his best to keep everyone calm and honest. This is very in line for what I expected from him. He wanted to group aspect of the therapy to work, and I’m fairly sure he had misgivings about that. He then proceeded to make progress on the aspects of his Headmaster, his relationship or lack thereof with his relatives, and realising the markers of his PTSD.  

Ginevra Potter held her cards quite close throughout the experiment, but she did make progress. She reconciled her feelings of abandonment in regards to Harry leaving to his death without saying anything. She’s somewhat reconciled her feelings of resentment toward her family about the way she was grieving about Fred’s death. She’s reconciled her memory loss from being possessed by the diary in her first year, and came to terms with the lack of compassion she received over likely traumatic events.  

Ultimately, this experiment was a failure because there was no true overall reconciliation, though there was some individual progress and reconciliation. I cannot do anything else for them as a group, as the animosity was greater than I, and likely they, expected it to be. They still have progress the make as individuals and as couples, so I have offered myself to them for counselling of any kind, should they need it on their path of mindfulness. I think they have come a long way from the children and teens they once were, but because they are victims of a war, they still have far to go.

Healer Laurel Donnelly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed. It means so much, considering I never expected any reviews at all - this was just a return to writing and creativity that I needed, and decided to post it.
> 
> I will be returning to Getting to Know the Greengrasses (GTKTG) and will be sporadically updating Aftermath as well. 
> 
> If there is anything you'd like to see me write, please don't hesitate to let me know! 
> 
> Much love  
> Midnightamant xx


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